On the Care and Keeping of Shoulder Angels
by semiramis
Summary: Or: A Wizard Under Annoyingly Close Watch Due to the Boredom of a Certain Power. Basically what happens when Archangel Raphael won't lend the Lone Power his pen. Btw, I'm sticking to the JudeoChristian names of the Powers for simplicity's sake. Old piece.
1. Prologue: Adoption

A/N: I'll warn you first thing—I'm the kind of author who often mocks things that shouldn't rightly be mocked by the politically conscientious. Therefore, those of you who are either strongly religious, conservative, closed-minded or otherwise easily offended may kindly vacate the premises—it's not that I've got anything against you, I'm just rather afraid you'll show up at my doorstep bearing pitchforks and torches, you see. That's not to say this particular 'fic will necessarily turn out offensive... it's just that it might, and probably will. Apart from that, the Young Wizards belong to Diane Duane, the Lone Power likewise belongs to Diane Duane (or Itself, if you prefer to view it in that light), the Bible and related paraphernalia belong to the religion to which they correspond (Christianity, for those of you who may not know), the Buggre Alle This Bible belongs to the angel Aziraphale, who in turn belongs to Terry Pratchett and Neil Gaiman (for _Good Omens_, which, for those who care, is a really funny book), and New York belongs to itself, no matter what the rest of the United States has to say on the subject. 

* * *

"So He drove out the man; and he placed at the east of the garden of Eden Cherubim, and a flaming sword which turned every which way, to keep the way of the tree of life.  
And the Lord spake unto the Angel that guarded the gate, saying Where is the flaming sword which was given unto thee?  
And the Angel said, I had it here a moment ago, must have put it down somewhere, forget my own head next.  
And the Lord did not ask again."  
—Genesis, 3:24-27 (Buggre Alle This Bible)   
  
"On slow days like this,   
I do wonder if so few  
Syllables suffice."  
—a koi in Tom and Carl's fishpond, who has forgotten the meaning of wakka.

* * *

High above a city, called New York by its inhabitants, a not-presence watched, searching. Waiting.  
  
Far below, young human female slept soundly in her bed, unaware. In a few hours, she would wake, shower, and have breakf-...

Um, brunch.  
  
Now, that was odd. She was usually up at the crack of dawn. Why...  
  
Ah.  
  
It was Sunday.  
  
No matter.  
  
The not-presence floated towards downwards, towards the city, towards the house, towards the girl. Carefully, quietly, it slipped a small oblong shape between her sheets.  
  
In a few hours, she would open her eyes and notice the shape by her pillow. Curious, she would take it out, study it, read a few lines. She would then dismiss it for something her sister had accidentally left lying around, never considering that it had not been there before she went to sleep, never considering that she would have known if her sister had come into her room in the middle of the night. Then she would go about her usual weekend routine.  
  
But she would have read from it.  
  
She would not realize its significance for a while, it knew.  
  
She would not realize.  
  
No, not until it was too late.  
  
....  
  
And then, the presence noticed something else, following it.  
  
That was to be expected.  
  
But it was the wrong something else.  
  
_&%^*^&*^%^&$&^%&*%^&!!!!!!!!_

* * *

**_On the Care and Keeping of Shoulder Angels_**  
  
OR:  
  
**_A Wizard Under Annoyingly Close Watch Due to the Boredom of a Certain Power_  
  
Prologue: Adoption **  
  
_"Of all pets, perhaps the most useful (and the most difficult) of all are shoulder angels. These strange, fascinating creatures come as both a blessing (literally) and a curse to those who choose to keep them—where they can protect their masters, warn them of danger, amplify the magic of those who are gifted with wizardry, and even temporarily transfer power unto those who are not; they, when agitated, can also inflict much pain and anguish upon all those within their immediate vicinity (in other words, everyone on or near the same continent), often without realizing what they are doing. We therefore ask you, with heartfelt sincerity, to choose carefully before you adopt one of these diminutive creatures. One must put into serious consideration the compatibility of dispositions, lifestyles, and power ratings of not only one's self with the shoulder angel, but those of the people one must interact with daily as well, for a shoulder angel will unerringly follow its master in all situations small or dire once adopted."_  
—St. Behemiel's _Guide to Popular Supernatural Household Pets Vol. 4: Shoulder Angels_  


* * *

Nita Callahan stepped out of the shower, wringing out her hair. She pulled her bath towel off its bar, first drying off, then wrapping it snugly about herself. Having done this, she reached for her brush and combed out her hair, watching herself in the mirror and wondering if she should get a perm.  
  
"Don't even think about it," came a small voice from her shoulder. "Your bone structure is entirely the wrong shape for curls."  
  
Nita jumped; a small, redheaded man bounced to the inner rim of the toilet seat and scrabbled for a foothold, beating a pair of criminally fluffy white wings. There was something awfully familiar about him...  
  
"What, no hello?" asked the miniaturized Lone Power (once He'd regained His dignity). "Hmmf. You usually don't seem to shut up." He cleared His throat and peered around. "Ahem... I must say things look far different from this perspective. ...Well? What are you staring at?"  
  
"P-... pe-..."  
  
"P-pe? What is p-pe?"  
  
"PERVERT!!!: screamed Nita, slamming the toilet seat on the Fallen Power. It came down like the Almighty Ceramic Wrath of GOD (tm), toppling the little bugger into the bowl of the toilet with an oddly echoing splash (although the echo may have had something to do with the sheer number of hard surfaces to bounce off of).  
  
Nita flushed.  
  
The toilet, that is.

  
~~~~*A/N: somewhere out there, a fellow otaku (anime fan) is getting serious vibes from that last scene.*

* * *

"So, how's your redemption going, anyway?" asked Nita pleasantly.  
  
"...oh, not bad, considering," replied our New Friend (guess who?). "Just a bit slow."  
  
"I...see."  
  
Nita suddenly noticed, that the Lone Power, oddly, seemed to be struggling with something. After a moment, she was proved correct, as it broke out with a bit of a rant:   
"But do you know how irritating it is, having to wait for all of your incarnations to catch up already? And Mike's constantly hanging around in the background, and whenever I want to do _anything_, he's saying things like 'Oh, _you_ can't go down there _yet_! It'll cause _anomalies_ in the time-space _continuum_!' And of _course_, it's just as impossible to wheedle a spare pen from Raphie as ever, so I can't even doodle to take my mind off things... and Gabs is still suspicious of me, although he was always about as flexible as an I-beam—it took him _forever_ to get used to the fact that I was Fallen when _that_ happened, I suppose it's just as hard the other way... and Meta and Sandy are always bickering, of course, being twins and all... but, I mean, _seriously!_ if you're going to be among the highest Powers under the One, you should at _least_ have something better to do with your time than steal your twin's left sock out of spite from the time he broke your miniature Astral Resonator or some such... admittedly, Mike and I were like that for a while, but it was only during the dawn of creation... and after I fell, but that's kind of different..."  
  
"..." commented Nita in profound wisdom.  
  
She _really_ wasn't used to getting the laundry lists of family complaints from the updated version of the Enemy.  
  
Nita considered the situation with slight trepidation. She, as a wizard, was for all intents and purposes not supposed to consort with the Lone Power. However, no one had ever said anything about the un-fallen Fallen Power...  
  
There was a perfectly logical explanation to the scenario. Really. Very Logical, with complementary capital L. so Logical that Plato would have wept with the beauty of it. So Logical that Galileo would have been struck dumb in awe of it. So Logical that Socrates would have had trouble poking holes in it. So Logical that it pained Nita to merely begin to try to comprehend the sheer, undiluted Logical-ness of it.  
  
In about three thousand, four hundred fifty-two and four-fifths eternities, Nita, working in conjunction with aforementioned philosophers (minus, of course, Socrates, who would probably have simply made things sound even more weird than they were), _might_ have been able to work out what was so logical about it.  
  
But at any rate, what had happened was this:  
Nita had, after successfully flushing the Lone Power down the toilet without so much as a Fairest-and-Fallen-greeting-and-defiance, dressed and stormed into her room (but not before being waylaid by a concerned Dairine en route) only to find said Fairest sitting rather sulkily on her dresser. Dripping. With a water beetle clinging to Its hair.  
  
"..." Nita had said. A comment which she would have to get used to making within the next few hours.  
  
"Hi," The Lone Power had greeted.  
  
"...what are You doing here? Eldest, Fairest and Fallen," Nita had finally managed.  
  
To her surprise, the Lone One had sighed, kneaded his temples, and otherwise showed signs of exasperation and/or weariness.  
  
"Alright, how do I begin this... first off, I'm not the Lone One. ...not as such."  
  
"...?" This was new. Nita was used to the Lone One trying to conceal Itself, but she'd never known It to deny Its own identity before.  
  
"You're looking at 3.0. The updated version. Post-reconfig. The Fallen but Redeemed. Whatever other fancy names you people called it."  
  
"..............." Nita had replied. _There is a place between sleep and wakefulness. It is a place between the mountains of a man's conscious knowledge, and the abyss of his subconscious mind. Yes, Nita Callahan, you have officially entered the Twilight Zone (cue creepy Theremin music here)._  
  
"And secondly, I'm not a capitalized pronoun in this form—none of us are. (Yes, I can hear capitalization in speech). This is a 'minor' form..."  
  
"...????" _Hello, metaphysical English teacher. You look refreshingly small today. Do you mind if I put you on hold while I TEAR MY HAIR OUT IN SHEER CONFUSION!!!???_  
  
"It's like... (okay, how do I explain this...?) It's like when you have a symphony, and you refer to... let's call him George... you refer to George, who's, say, a violinist, as a "violin," but when he's not in his uniform and doesn't have his violin, he's not a violin... so George the violinist is only a violin when there's a violin and a symphony, because without the symphony, he's just a violinist or a musician, but... does that make sense?"  
  
"..." Nita had said. _Okay, what are we talking about again? I didn't quite catch the switch from capitalized pronouns to George the Violin..._  
  
"...You're not getting this at all, are you?" the Lone One sighed.  
  
"...no." _Gee, what was your first clue?_ "At least not the part about the violins. Remind me, what point are you trying to make again?"  
  
"...never mind, it seems to have gotten through anyway."  
  
"Oh. Okay."  
  
"Yeah."  
  
"Yeah."  
  
And then an awkward silence. You know the sort—the kind that one has when, at a masquerade party or some such, where the lights are all dimmed and it's hard to tell who's who, you have a wonderful time with this great new person you met... and then the lights turn on, and you realize it's your snotty sibling. Oops. Except kind of the other way around.  
  
Nita hesitated a moment before settling on a nice, unobtrusive question—the kind of question you ask your cousins at family reunions when you've never quite liked them, or even known them all that well. It was a question which, had it been directed at any other individual, might have manifested itself in the form of "How are the kids, even though I know they're all undoubtedly out of the house by now?" or "Well, did you get into that university you were looking into last time we met, about ten years ago?" However, either of these was inappropriate, considering that Nita wasn't certain the Lone One had ever bothered to have children in any incarnation, and was pretty sure he'd never needed to go to collage. So, instead, the question in question took the following shape:  
  
"So... how's your redemption going, anyway?"   
Which brings us back to where we had been previously.  
  
The Lone Power sighed, having just listed off his entire line of complaints about his siblings (or, at least the ones that bothered him the most—if he had said everything, there would have been exactly—at last count—301,655,722 individuals in the Heavenly Host to go through, which there wasn't enough time for).  
  
"I'm sorry. I just had to get that rant off my chest."  
  
"...No... no, no, that's alright," assured Nita. "I understand perfectly."  
  
There was a slightly awkward pause, though not quite as bad as the previous one.  
  
"Uh... so," began Nita. "Why... what's... exactly _why_ are you here, anyway?"  
  
"Well, that's just it, isn't it?" the Lone Power replied, as though it was the most obvious thing in the world.  
  
"...I'm sorry, what?" Nita asked.  
  
"I said, 'well, that's just it, isn't it?'" repeated the Lone Power  
  
"No, _what's_ just it?" amended Nita, feeling very much like her old friend Fred.  
  
"What I was just ranting about. You know, if _you_ had to put up with entire damned holy host for more than a week, _you'd_ take the first opportunity to escape, too."  
  
Nita stared, nonplussed. Finally, she settled for a query that allowed her to ignore the problem at hand. "Is it physically possible for the holy host to be damned?"  
  
The Lone Power thought for a moment, sipping on a mug of tea over half his height. (_Where did that come from?_ thought Nita)  
  
"I don't know," he replied. "Does it matter? I mean, that's the problem with swearing and the Powers, you know—most of us don't do it, and part of it's the entire 'swearing in the Speech' thing, but mostly it's just, well, so, you know? I mean, so many swearwords are religiously based... it's a bit awkward, if you know what I mean..."  
  
Nita wondered—not for the first time, nor the last—what she'd gotten herself into.

* * *

A/N: About the scene where the LP is explaining about... the pronouns and stuff... I'm sorry about that ^_^****. I generally hate those, but I tried to make it interesting by adding in Nita's side thoughts... which started to make the entire thing feel like a warped MST... and, yes, part of the reason I did that was so that I would be able to avoid the capitalized pronouns when typing. They're very annoying. Actually, did you know that, a long time ago, people used to capitalize all pronouns for people, not just "I"? One day, they'll probably stop capitalizing that one, too, but the lowercase letter "i" looks a bit awkward on its own, I guess... and before that, people didn't even have lowercases...  
  
ahem...  
  
Well! Now that the prologue's over with... now to the fun stuff... heheheheheh.... Oh, btw, I'm not sure how you ppls like it, but, if it goes as planned, this is going to (eventually) develop a plot of sorts, snuck in randomly amongst the otherwise random weirdness and stupidity. More to come.  
  
Love it? Hate it? Confused by the convoluted way I presented the events? Annoyed by the extremely long run-ons (I've always that problem.... -_-**)? Comments and criticisms, particularly pertaining to how I can improve, are welcome with open arms and lots of candy. And an expensive-looking black car with suspicious-looking guys in sunglasses and suits, and a secret observation lab somewhere where the government feels safe about this entire thing, but I'm getting ahead of myself, aren't I? Feel free to click the little button of questionable color below ^_^.  
  
And remember: although most humorous things are stupid, most things in life can be considered stupid as well. So where does that put us? 


	2. Chapter 1: Habilitation

A/N: A long time ago, before I signed on to ff.net, I swore to myself that, if I did sign on (which, obviously, I did), I would never do a review-by-review response in my notes.

Ah, how things have changed. There are just far too many things that I wish to respond to in these.

Virgo—the little angels in Wish are not confined to the series. They're SD's, or super-deformed, so called because they are drawn with three to four or less head-lengths tall, and don't necessarily need to be angels. This is, incidentally, the form in which I myself was imagining him most of the time.

Selesterile: Don't worry; it gets less confusing later on. Oh wait... *checks mental schematic of planned storyline* correction, it gets better, and then it gets worse. Sorry ^_^.

Birdhead: I hope I can live up to being compared with Good Omens ^_^. And, yeah, this is going to turn out a bit non-canon.

Little lisa: I wouldn't let _my_ mother read most of the stuff I do on ff.net, either... ^_-

Meredith T. Tasaki: don't worry. I made an elaborate and incomprehensible CIA joke myself. We can all be elaborate, incomprehensible, and pretentious together. Really. (Although I'm not sure that's going to make you feel any better...

Nirejseki: actually, I was going more for "There's a miniature version of my nemesis on the toilet seat. My brain has just petitioned for a vacation. I'm on autopilot right now. Please leave a message after the beep. Beeeeep." on Nita's part and "Okay, I'm VERY GRATEFUL to be out of my relative's sticky fingers, but consorting with you is rather beneath me, but it's convenient for now, so I'd better fill you in on the details. Oh, and I guess I should be polite, too, because if I'm not, you might kick me out and Mike would find me and I'd have to go home with him and that would be BAAAAD. Yes." on the Lone Power's part. Yeah, it was kind of OOC, though. I'll try to keep that in mind from now on. And, I actually didn't steal the scene from any one anime in particular. No, rather, I "borrowed" it *koffkoff* from the paradigm of Unlikely Encounters of the Future Borders (which does include Love Hina, yes, but also encompasses such series as Tenchi Muyou/Universe/whatever, Ah! Megami-sama (Ah My Goddess), and other such "supernatural/incomprehensible beings intruding into everyday life of normal persons," among others—yes, the girls count as being "supernatural/incomprehensible" in Love Hina ^_^... come to think of it, this 'fic kinda falls under the aforementioned category, doesn't it?). Actually, aside from needing an interesting circumstance in which the Lone Power wiggles/gets punted into Nita's day-to-day life, I did that scene partially so I could use the term "Almighty ceramic wrath of God." I've always wanted to use that term... Oh, and one more thing—good news, bad news, kind. Bad news first—the stupid nicknames come later. Good news: they are either not from me, or meant humorously, or both ^_-, and the lowercasing was actually for multiple reasons (although I didn't want to spoil anything, which is why I didn't mention it previously), one of which appears in this chapter. ......*sweatdrop* my, my... Long review, long response, I guess ^_^;

Smile7499: channeling? What do you mean by "channeling?" I've read the manga and watched about half an episode of the dubbed version of the anime before running away screaming/laughing my head off at the way they pronounced poor Sesshy-sama and Shippou-chan's names, among other things... does that count as channeling? And I hope I can live up to the comparison to the Hitchhiker's Guide, too...

Namer-of-the-lights: Why, thank you!

Fireblade K'Chona: And thank _you_, too!

It's so weird... I've actually read/seen/been exposed to all of the series mentioned in the reviews... wow...

Disclaimer: all characters appearing in this 'fic belong to Diane Duane, and I'm not going to let _them_ argue otherwise. All places are purely fictional and imaginary, and any resemblance to real locations is purely coincidental, since the author has no idea what New York is like (except what it looks like from the other side of the Niagara Falls, because my cousin we were visiting lives in Detroit and we decided to go sight-see across the border; and what its suburbs look like, because my parents attended a class reunion there and dragged me along).

* * *

**_On the Care and Keeping of Shoulder Angels_**  
  
OR:   
  
**_A Wizard Under Annoyingly Close Watch Due to the Boredom of a Certain Power_  
  
Chapter 1: Habilitation**

_"Once a shoulder angel has chosen its master, it will spend some time to get its bearings and adjust to its new habitat. At this stage of development, we advise you to visit as many of the people and locations you normally encounter as possible, as your angel will need to become accustomed to them. We would also like to warn you at this point that very few humans are capable of seeing others' shoulder angels, and that you should not attempt to formally introduce them or speak aloud to your angels in front of others. If there is need to communicate, your angel will be able to hear all thoughts directed to them. In addition, it is wise to make clear to the angel not to take advantage of the blindness of others, for this is a behavior that is very difficult to curb later on when not handled immediately. It is also of note that, before becoming fully integrated into an environment, shoulder angels are prone to attracting exotic outside forces, including other angels. Indeed, the main reason why a person is usually thought to have two shoulder angels, if any, is not due to the paradigm of the voice of reason and the voice of temptation—rather, it is simply because shoulder angels, if they are not already in the company of another, will almost invariably draw others to themselves."_  
—St. Behemiel's _Guide to Popular Supernatural Household Pets Vol. 4: Shoulder Angels_

* * *

"Okay, so, let me get this straight," Nita began, chasing the last of her eggs around the plate with her fork. "You've gotten redeemed."

"Yes."

"And you're... you _were_ being kept under the One's Champion's watch because the other Powers were afraid you'd come down here and meet yourself and cause a bunch of weird complications."

"Uh-huh."

"Okay, that much, at least, makes sense. The part I don't understand is this—exactly _how_ did you get away from the One's Champion, and why did you wind up here?"

"We've went over this a hundred times, wizard."

"Humor me, please. I'm a mere mortal. I'm not supposed to be as psychologically developed as you are."

"Alright, fine," the Lone One huffed, rolling its eyes. "I followed a paradox."

"And _how_ does one follow a paradox?"

"I don't know, but I _did_! That's why it's _called_ a paradox!"

"That makes absolutely _no_ sense whatsoever." Nita stood and slipped into the kitchen to wash her dish off.

"Like I said, _that's why it's called a paradox_," the Lone One repeated in a tone usually reserved for small children and severe head-injury victims. It flitted in behind Nita and settled itself on the head of the faucet. "It's not _supposed_ to be explainable." 

"I still don't get it."

"...Nor comprehensible. –hey, that got in my eye!"

"_You_ were the one who chose to sit on the faucet." Nita rinsed off the plate, put it in the rack, and went to dry her hands. "...But then how come you get it?"

"You are, I quote, 'not supposed to be as psychologically developed' as I. And I never said I did, either—I just _did_ it."

"But _that_ doesn't make any..." Nita paused in both her speaking and her drying. "No. Never mind. I'm not even going to ask any more."

"Very prudent of you."

Nita rolled her eyes and let go of the towel.

"Alright, look, Kit—my partner, in case you don't remember—and I are going to—"

"Nita? Who are you talking to?" asked Nita's father, poking his head into the kitchen.

"What? Oh, I'm talking to..."—Nita gestured vaguely at the Lone Power (who was still sitting on the faucet)—"that." 

"What, the sink?" Nita's father asked.

"No, I mean... oh. Oh, never mind." _I guess he can't see it because he's not a wizard..._

"Oh, ah, okay... are you feeling alright?" asked Nita's father, sounding concerned.

"What? Oh, yeah, I'm fine. Why?" Nita couldn't think of any reason why he would ask that...

"It's just... nothing. It's nothing. Nothing at all."

Nita raised an eyebrow.

"Okay, Dad... c'mon," she directed at the Lone Power. "I guess you can come if you want."

"Who, me? Where?" asked Nita's father.

"No, I don't mean you, I mean... oh, forget it..."

Nita shook her head and headed out, a little figure flapping behind her and snickering under its breath.

_(Oh, do shut up...)_ Nita snapped silently. She pulled out her ready-made spell for a nearby factory she and Kit had been working on lately (the factory, that is, not the spell) and shook it out, letting it settle at a convenient level to write on. She then began adding the name of the Lone Power in, but paused halfway as something occurred to her.

"Um... is your name the same in this form?"

"What? Oh, no... it's..."

But Nita had already added a group of symbols that basically amounted to "who is now small, short, and fluffy."

"Hey!"

"What, is that wrong?"

"...no, but... there's a technical notation for this form, you know!"

"Okay, what is it?"

The Lone Power sighed and pointed at the name where it wanted it changed.

"Put dash-epsilon-rai-five-... no, no, not like _that_. No, not that, either...! Shorten the continuation line, and switch the...! _No!_ Ugh, here, let _me_ do it..."

It hovered up to the diagram and hurriedly erased and re-scribbled an entire line of Speech, which nevertheless turned out as neat as the original. Nita silently wished she could write that fast and still be legible.

"Alright, _there_."

"Oh, I see it now..." Nita studied the faintly glowing blue symbols. "Huh. But doesn't that mean..."

"_Yes_,_ it does._" It interrupted through gritted teeth. "Can we hurry up now, or are we going to stand here and discuss the philosophy behind the notation, as fascinating a subject as I'm sure it is?"

"Alright, alright," Nita replied, spreading the spell onto the floor. "C'mon, get in."

It fluttered to her shoulder and hovered there, as Nita activated the spell, and—

_Suck-whoosh-POP!_

"Hey, Nita!" called her partner's voice from a bit above. Kit was dangling his feet off the precarious edge of a cement wall, his open manual on his lap and a half-written diagram in the air. "You're late!"

"Sorry, I ran into a few complications back home..."

"What, did your dad hold you up? I thought he'd gotten used to your wizardry already?"

"No, it wasn't him; it was..." she flicked her head briefly in the Lone Power's direction. "Um. That."

Kit stared at her, uncomprehending, his hand halfway through the curve of a symbol.

"Huh?"

"Can't he see you?" she asked the Lone Power, glancing in its direction.

"What, is someone there?" Kit asked, misinterpreting her glance. "Don't worry, I've got one of the simpler invisibility spells up... you know, the 'loop' kind? I set it up around the entire area we were going to work in--I thought I might as well get something done while I was waiting for you..."

Nita blinked, nonplussed.

"...oh... yeah... thanks..."

"Did I forget to mention that you're probably the only person who can actually detect my presence?" The Lone One quipped, smiling with feigned sweetness. "Dear me, it must have slipped my mind..."

_(Yeah, thanks for warning me beforehand,)_ Nita shot back sarcastically. She climbed up a handy stack of crates and pulled herself up next to Kit, peering over his shoulder at the half-finished spell diagram.

"So, what do we have here?" she asked, studying it.

"It's the litmus-tester spell you designed for the Jones Inlet earlier on," he replied, completing the sector he was working on. "I changed a few things though, since we're working with air instead of water this time..."

"Alright, what did you change?" Nita asked. "Here, I'll help you with that."

"Wait..." Kit completed the symbol he was writing with a flourish. "It's alright, that's all the written part. Here, you can help me do the verbal part... let's get your name in here..."

The Lone Power watched them with a rather detached interest.

"So this is what you do on your free time. Huh. This looks almost as dull as the paperwork Mike saddles himself with when he's not waving around that ridiculous flaming sword of his..."

_(Busy, can't talk now,)_ Nita replied shortly as she and Kit began reciting the spell. Silence bent in to watch, and the Lone Power glowered at it. Silence, seeing this, went to cower behind Kit, because Silence is a very tall thing, and, as referenced in one of the original books (though the author doesn't remember which one and will not try to check right now because she is a bit behind schedule and it takes eons to find a reference that small in Duane's works), Kit had recently had a growth spurt and was now more or less taller than Nita. And both the Lone Power and the Silence cringed at the length of the previous sentence.

When the spell was over, Silence gladly left, shaking its head at unfriendly Powers and 'kids these days...'.

"That doesn't look right," Nita commented with a gesture at the results.

"Aw, dang," Kit groaned. "We're not elevated enough to get a good reading..."

"Great. What now?" asked Nita, looking around. "I don't see very many elevated places that would be reasonable to stand on..."

"We could solidify a patch of air, like you did that one time when we were on Ordeal..."

"Yeah, but I have to be close, remember? I can't just shout up at..."

"Try the ladder," the Lone One interrupted, pointing.

"What?"

"I didn't say anything," Kit replied as the Lone Power repeated itself.

"Kit, hang on..."

_(Could you say that again?)_

"I said, try the ladder," the Lone One re-repeated, scowling. ("Modern mortals... hmpf... can't listen at all...")

"The latter?" Nita blinked. "But we only..."

"The ladder! You're right!" Kit exclaimed.

(Thus, we learn that two wrongs sometimes _do_ make a right—but only in circumstances in which they would negate each other...).

Nita turned and looked at it apprehensively. It was the kind of ladder that one can't really call a ladder, because it wasn't a ladder so much as a bunch of steel rungs shaped like a kind of flattened letter "C" that a hasty writer had squished up against a margin and nailed more or less in a straight line into a surface that was more or less planar, which would be otherwise impossible—or at least very difficult—to go up and down without breaking your neck; but lacking a better term, is referred to as a ladder anyway. (And, once again, the Lone One cringed at the length of a sentence.) This particular ladder-type apparatus was affixed to a large smoke-column, which, when Nita bent her head back to look, went up... and up... and up... and ended somewhere where the Tower of Babylon would have given its cornerstone to reach. Its cornerstone _and_, if it had had any, its eyeteeth. But it didn't, so that's beside the point.

And the ladder wasn't exactly that wide, either.

"I dunno..." she began, frowning. "It looks a bit precarious... do you think we can fit on there and spell at the same time?"

"Sure! And, anyway, why'd you suggest it if you weren't sure?"

"Okay, let's go," she assented, deciding not to answer his question.

And so, our intrepid space cadets scaled the ladder, boldly going way where no man had gone before!

...

...sort of. Kit _did_ remember to extend his invisibility spell upwards first, though.

Nita and Kit stopped about halfway up the column and brought out their manuals to begin re-outlining the spell diagram.

"Nita, could you hold this down for a moment?" Kit asked, gesturing at the loose end of the circle with his free hand (the other was gripping the rung of the ladder; his manual, like Nita's, was floating politely to the side, open to the page they were working on).

"Yeah, sure," Nita replied, complying. She had to stretch a bit; the ladder was only wide enough to fit about half a person at a time, so he was about six rungs higher up than she was to compensate.

"Comfy?" sniggered the Lone Power.

_(Thank you_ ever _so much for your_ insightful _commentary.)_ Nita responded dryly. She shifted slightly and squinted up at the sky, noting that it looked as though it was about to rain.

"You're quite wel....come..." The Lone Power trailed off, its eyes going slightly glazed.

_(Eh? What's wrong?)_ Nita asked, glancing upward to where it sat between Kit's feet.

"Oh no. _Hoooooh_ no. Not...." The muttering grew indistinct as its speaker began to fade out of the visible spectrum and inch itself quietly away...

"LUCYYYYYY!!!! WHERE HAVE YOU BEEN???? WE'VE BEEN SO WORRIEEEEEEED!!!!" squealed a black, white, and navy blur. Said blur crashed into the half-invisible Lone Power (like the Almighty NON-ceramic Wrath of God) at such a high speed that Nita's hair was blown backwards by its slipstream.

Nita goggled at the miniaturized One's Champion, who was currently squeezing the life out of its sibling, presumably in a friendly, sibling-ly hug.

"How could you run away like that? Are we really all that bad? Do you know how worried everyone's been? And Parry's gone and had a hernia about it, poor fellow, and Doki _dropped_ his balance when he heard! That _never_ happens! And Chao showed up and said you were here, and ... and..."

"P- _Peach?_" Nita squeaked, wide-eyed.

"Hmmm? Oh, hello, Nita! I haven't seen you in a while! Oh, and Ronan sends his best, by the way..."

"Nita, are you alright?" Kit asked, glancing down rather awkwardly.

"Y-yeah..." Nita stammered as a general response to the immediate world around her.

A moment passed, wearing a purple zoot suit with magenta accents, an olive green top hat with a flamingo feather stuck in it, and a pair of sparkly goldenrod go-go boots. No one even glanced at it.

Nita, however, was looking at the Lone Power's face. Or what little of it showed from between the One's Champion's big ol' hug.

_(Uh... is it supposed to be turning that color? I mean, it's very pretty, but...)_

The One's Champion looked down at its twin, who was, indeed, turning an odd purplish shade of blue.

"Oh... it is, isn't it?" it commented. "Are you all right?"

"khfffkktppppffff....." the Lone One replied, flailing its limbs uselessly.

"Huh. Maybe I should, huh?" the One's Champion replied as though getting something coherent out of that.

And its twin was subsequently dropped, quite unceremoniously.

The Lone One bounced downward a rung or three before it was able to regain its balance. Finally, it flapped spastically back upwards, still rather purple in the face. Although, this time, it seemed to be from severe aggravation rather than lack of air.

"WHAT DID YOU THINK YOU WERE DOING, YOU *$&^&$%#^$ MARSHMELLOW-BRAIN!!??? AND DON'T CALL ME LUCY!!" it roared (or tried to—the word "roar" is rather hard to apply when your voice is three octaves higher than usual and is, on top of that, cracking as well). The One's Champion's hair and feathers fluffed backwards a bit when they (the two Powers, not the hair and feathers) were level with one another.

"I was rescuing you," the One's Champion replied matter-of-factly, straightening itself. It ignored the comment/imperative regarding nicknames.

"_RESCUING_ ME???? RESCUING _ME_????"

"I believe I just said that. In so many words. And calm down. You're fluffing out like a cat whose tail just got stuffed into an electric socket."

The Lone One's fluff settled slightly as it stared haggardly for a moment, as though struck dumb by its sibling's idiocy.

"Mike," it began, its voice completely calm now (if not a bit ironic), "exactly _why_ do you need to... rescue _me_?"

"Because if you meet Yourself, either You are going to wind up hurting yourself, or else you'll hurt Yourself, or else you'll just plain hurt yourself without meeting Yourself. And that would create a very inconvenient anomaly."

_I think that statement was in itself an anomaly,_ Nita thought. She decided not to share it.

"_Mike..._"

"And this isn't my Mike form. This is my Athena form."

"No, it's not. Your Athena form is about ten times taller."

"_Must_ you disagree with everything I say?"

"No, it's just that everything you say is wrong."

"What if I were to say that everything _you_ say is right?"

"That would be a false statement, too. I _do_ lie, remember. One case of exclusion is enough to prove an entire generalization incorrect, you remember."

_Oh, no..._ Nita thought. _Logic. I HATE that class..._

"But wouldn't that make your statement wrong, too? I've given true statements, you know."

"Like what?"

"I'll do one now. 'Some of _your_ statements are lies.' Or 'some of your statements are _not_ lies." Or 'Some of your statements are lies, therefore some of your lies are statements.' Or..."

Lucy—um. _The Lone One_, after working its jaws for quite some time, was finally able to interrupt:

"I hate you. I really, really hate you."

"...I love you too, brother _dear_. And if you can call me Mike in this form, then I can call you Lucy, because that _is_ the minor of the appropriate form for that."

"I don't _have_ a form called 'Lucy,' my ever so sophisticated sibling."

"But that _is_ the form most people call Lucifer..."

"Which was a misinterpretation in the first place! ..." 

"Um, Nita?" The slightly hesitant voice of Kit interrupted Nita's concentration upon the exchange. "We, uh.... we've been ready to do the spoken part for a while now..."

"What? Oh... spoken... spoken part... right.... yeah..."

"Could you check our names?"

"Um... yeah..."

Nita had to go over the diagram several times and wasn't able to process an iota of it. Literally or figuratively.

"Uh..."

"Um, look, Neets? Are you sure you're okay?"

"Yeah, I'm... I'm firpectly pine.... ah... perfectly fine..." she reassured him absently, finally tearing her mind far enough out of shock to effectively check their names (which isn't very far...). She leaned forward to place her fingers on the last character of her own name... and her other hand was still holding the (no longer loose) end of the spell... and her other hand was supporting herself on the rungs... and why did it suddenly feel so windy? Wait... one... two... three... didn't she only have two hands?

Oh. She had let go of the railing.

Oh. She was falling.

A thought registered dimly in Nita's head: _Note to self: in the future, avoid structures of the tall, pillar-like, and runged variety._

And another one, too, Nita noticed bemusedly. _You know, this is a good time to scream, isn't it?_

_Yeah, it is, huh?_ responded another part of her mind.

_Yeah._

_Okay._

_Well? What are you waiting for? Go on already._

...

And then, it hit her. She was FALLING. And she was falling REALLY FAST. And she was going to HIT THE GROUND. And that was _NOT A GOOD THING!_

_"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!"_ Nita observed sedately.

* * *

A/N: Ooh, cliffie!! I hardly ever pull those off correctly!

Oh, and don't worry. This is a humor, not an angst. I'm not going to kill off Nita. No, you don't kill off characters in humor. That's bad. Of course, my other 'fic, which is of the Tamora Pierce fandom, consists of _all_ the characters except one dying off... but that was about the Realms of the Dead! It wouldn't have happened if I hadn't done it! This fandom's Timeheart is too boring to make fun of! ...unless you put it in a snow globe and sell it to tourists.... But I'm not doing that! I swear! I'M INNOCENT, I TELL YOU! INNOCENT!

—ahem. Anyway...

A few explanations to make:

I know Nita seems a little out of it here, and Kit seems to be doing everything, and that's not strictly accurate to the books... this is because Nita is, as she herself mentions, in shock.

And she's a touch more sarcastic than usual, but that's because this is a humor 'fic.

And, yeah, I took some liberties with the One's Champion (or, in other words, it is COMPLETELY out of character). It doesn't appear that much in the books, except as Peach, so I don't really have that much to go by, particularly in situations when it's important for It to be more emotional...-_-;. So, hence the characterization improvisation.

And, no, 'Doki' is not a misspelling of 'Loki.' It's a shortening of someone's name (you try to figure out whose). As mentioned in the summary, I'm sticking to Judeo-Christian (is Islam included in there? It is, right?) names, because a) it's less confusing to stay in one pantheon, b) it's the group of religions that is most widespread and therefore easiest to comprehend amongst English-speakers, and c) the Lone Power and the One's Champion Themselves use it in the first book (check out the part when they're talking on the phone. You only hear the LP, but it's assumed that the OC is responding to "Mike" and "Michael"). I get the idea that the Norse Loki would be the parallel of the LP Itself.

Speaking of which, I've been throwing in post-biblical angelic names in both chapters that I've posted, and I'm curious to see how many people are catching them... thus far, they have more or less gotten progressively more obscure as we go, except for one (which I'm not sure anyone is going to get), and they're more or less all in the Lone One and the One's Champion's dialogue, except, again, for one (which I am likewise not sure anyone is going to get). Sorry, this isn't a contest—just a bit of a self-test to see if I'm either being too obscure or too obvious, or whatever. So, no prizes, and I can't get busted for making the review function into an interactive bulletin thingy—you can tell me in review or email (just make sure the heading doesn't look like spam... in fact, if you do use my email, put "S.A. response: NOT SPAM" in the heading). This may or may not continue into the other chapters.

(And, no, I'm not actually Christian or Jewish or Muslim or anything... I'm an atheist—an atheist who is very in to anthropology. [atheist=person who is not religious. I once had a really nice friend who was a devout Christian, and we were really good friends until I mentioned atheism, and then there was this whole big misunderstanding about the difference between atheism and devil worship.] If you're religious and offended by any of this, I'm sorry. But I did put a warning at the very beginning of the prologue.)

~~~~

Comments and criticisms, particularly of the constructive sort (that's constructive as in "I don't like this [and you may or may not add in a because ____], and you can fix that by______." I personally believe critique doesn't have to have a little complimentary compliment tagging along behind—those are usually rather strained and falsified...although they're perfectly fine if they're honest ^.^v), are very welcome!

Btw, is Logic a high-school level class in New York?

...

And remember, the voices are not real. They are nothing to worry about. The point at which they start taking the form of little SD's with fluffy wings and weird advice is when you're supposed to start worrying.


	3. Chapter 2: Companionship

Okie dokie... I've decided to not do any more review-by-review responses, because 1) I've gotten a complaint, and I frankly agree with the arguments, 2) there aren't that many things that I'm just burning to say, and 3) there's no time anymore, what with my teachers actually assigning homework now that we've gotten on our feet with the new school year. Thanks to everyone who reviewed, though! (The comment about the moment and its zoot suit seemed to be very well received...)

Oh, btw, Nirejseki—I couldn't resist just pointing out one _teensy weensy_ little thing—it actually is SD. Chibi is a term used in this sense almost exclusively by the English-speakers—in Japanese, it merely means "little," which is rather broad (i.e., "Little? Little what?" I went to an animation panel at AX once, and someone asked how to draw a "chibi." Two of the three Japanese animators had no idea what the guy was talking about—the translator didn't translate the term—until the third leaned over and whispered "SD"). The term "SD" is one of those weird acquired words that they borrowed from English (like "bai-bai" and such). Chibi can be used by English-speaking artists to describe the form, but it's usually used in reference to a child form of a usually adult or teen character. Sorry to keep contradicting you... ^_^;;

Anywho! Abandoning my little tangent (which happens to have almost nothing to do with the series) there...

All characters appearing in this fic thus far are not my own. If you sue me, you will get nothing but a file full of math homework, which I desperately need to pass the class. So!

* * *

**_On the Care and Keeping of Shoulder Angels_**

OR:

**_A Wizard Under Annoyingly Close Watch Due to the Boredom of a Certain Power_** ^ _And the Kind But Unappreciated Concern of its Sibling!_

**Chapter Two: Companionship**

_"It is of great importance for all angel owners that an angel, if left by itself for too long, is liable to become unhealthy or unhappy. Even today, no one is quite sure why this is; some have hypothesized that it is due to a strange astral symbiosis, an advanced herding instinct, or simply the need to constantly argue. Whatever the cause of this phenomenon, it is believed to be part of the reason why solitary shoulder angels attract other presences—an adaptation to keep the angel's health from deteriorating. You will notice, once your second angel arrives, that they will argue incessantly. You are not advised to try to suppress this behavior—indeed, it is wise to encourage it, because it is not only very informative to any who happen to be listening, but extremely beneficial to the angels' health as well."_   
—St. Behemiel's _Guide to Popular Supernatural Household Pets Vol. 4: Shoulder Angels_

* * *

"...but, I tell you, I absolutely _hate_ it when people confuse me with that... that... _entity_! Lucifer is absolutely the most irritating individual I have ever had the dubious pleasure of..."

"Hey, where'd Nita go?" the One's Champion interrupted suddenly, blinking. Her brother gestured over its shoulder to indicate the space behind and slightly below itself.

"Oh, she should be..." it looked in the direction it was pointing. "Gone. Huh. That's odd."

"What's that yelling?"

"Oh, that would be the other wizard, screaming his partner's name in surprised alarm."

"No, I know that. Not _that_ yelling. The other yelling. It just started up a second ago. I think it's coming from below. Hey, that rhymed!"

"Below?" The Lone Power blinked. "You mean, like down?"

At this point, both of them ducked their heads over the rungs to see a bit more clearly.

"Oh, it's just Nita falling to her certain death and a new occupation as a bloody, wizardly pancake below," the Lone One stated.

"Oh, my. We should go help... oops, too late."

* * *

"That was _so_ irresponsible of you," Kit sighed, bending over Nita's prone form, which was lying a few yards away from the tower. "Really. I mean, you should have been paying attention to what you were doing. What _were_ you thinking?"

"Kit... shut. Up," came Nita's slightly muffled voice. "Just... just shut up."

Nita was a little miffed at herself. In the same way that the Mariana Trench is just a mite deep. Or that Venus is rather warm. Or that the Champion is just slightly nuts. Or that ... you get the idea.

But, in any case, Nita wasn't feeling her smartest. What had happened was this:

Nita had been falling, and screaming her proverbial head off. Well, she has a head, that part isn't proverbial, but...

Anyway.

Her thoughts, at the time, had gone (more or less) in this direction:

_I'M FALLING I'M FALLING I'M (did I remember to lock the door?) FALLING I'M FALLING I'M FALLING I'M FALLING (Oops! I forgot to carry the three on problem number twenty-six on my math homework!) I'M FALLING I'M FALLING I'M (wait a minute. I'm a wizard, right? So doesn't that mean I can do something about this situation?) ..._

_Stupid, stupid, stupid,_ scolded the part of her brain that reminded her of her little sister.

_Now, what spell should I use..._ said the part that, strangely, reminded her of the kid who sat next to her in science.

_Oh, shield spell. Duh,_ supplied the part that reminded her of Kit's sister.

And Nita quickly pulled out the spell (with about a picosecond to loose, even!) and thought the syllables.

And bounced. Twice. No... make that three times. And landed on her face. But was mostly unharmed.

Kit had rushed to her rescue rather after the point. _Very_ after the point, in fact, considering she'd been lying there for a full minute by the time he was done climbing back down (at top speed, no less). And then he had made his little concerned/exasperated friend speech, and Nita had snapped at him to shut up, and the little narrative loop bites its tail like a metaphysical puppy never does.

"You should have done something," the One's Champion announced primly as she and her brother lighted on the ground next to Nita. "Really, you should have. It's your responsibility as a shoulder angel."

"I didn't see _you_ doing anything useful!"

"That's beside the point. I technically haven't assigned myself to her yet."

"You _haven't_... _yet?_" Sputter, sputter.

"Mmhm!"

"So, does that mean you won't, or you will?"

"Oh I plan to."

Nita pretended she hadn't heard that part. Maybe the problem would just walk off if she pretended it didn't exist. Maybe she'd heard wrong. Maybe the One would come down personally and do a tap dance on an orange peel.

"And _why_, exactly?"

"My dear, _dear_ brother... someone has to make sure you don't kill yourself down here."

Glower. Glare. Insert other synonyms thereof here.

"Mike. I..."

"Not in this form, I'm not."

"MIKE. I'm death. I _can't_ die."

"Oh, you know what I mean! Anyway, I'm staying down here to keep an eye on you. Our dear parent _had_ assigned me too watch over you, remember..."

Nita moaned and tried to wake up.

Which didn't work, considering the fact that she was already awake.

* * *

"So, how did _your_ intervention go?" chirped Dairine (with a slightly superior tone) as her sister stumped into the house, a few hours of running around trying to redo the spell later.. Spot bobbed around cheerfully, not even glancing at the shoulder angels. "_We_ just successfully completed our genetic re-habilitation of the Ktai-rhaau, it was a really successful..."

And she shut up at Nita's accurate impersonation of the Lone Power's glower at its own bubbly sibling.

"Yeesh, Neets, did the Lone One stick a hunk of sodium carbonate down your back or something?"

"No, but it did sic me with itself and its twin..." muttered Nita.

"What was that?"

"Nothing!"

"Jeez, okay, okay!"

Nita trudged moodily up the stairs to her room, slumped into her desk, and opened her manual to the page on which they had saved their results, including those of the first, botched try (Kit had had to finish the spell before he went to help Nita; leaving a live spell hovering over a power plant is a _very_ stupid thing to do, unless you _want_ something to explode). She then tried to focus her attention on writing up an intervention.

"Now, that's _not_ going to work, there," the One's Champion interrupted half an hour later when Nita was almost through her carbon monoxide subroutine.

"Wh?"

"That. The _reason_ why carbon monoxide is dangerous is because it bonds with oxygen, it won't be that much of a help if you make them..."

"Oh, come _on_!" interjected the Lone One before she could finish. "Carbon monoxide is only harmful when it's inhaled; carbon _dioxide_ is perfectly fine."

"But carbon _dioxide_ augments the likelihood of forest fires, and increases global..."

"Since _when_ were there forests in which one could have forest fires in _New York City_?"

"... _and increases global warming_. And there's Central Park, dear."

"There's plenty of other things that create carbon dioxide here; what's one more going to do, huh?"

"It's always good to prevent what you can."

"hrrg.... goody-two-shoes..."

"Okaaaay..." Nita frowned, rather confused. She'd stopped following the conversation somewhere around 'augments the likelihood,' having learned her lesson from the tower incident. "So.... what do you suggest?"

"Now, it's not nice to call people names!" the One's Champion was saying to its sibling, not hearing Nita.

"Well, it's hardly a point with us, since most people seem to like to call us by epithets, anyway..."

"That's beside the point."

"No, it isn't."

"Yes, it is."

"No, it isn't."

"Yes, it is."

Nita half expected to hear an ethereal voice saying "stop that right now, or I'll turn this planet _right_ around and head back home!" ...but none came.

"Um, excuse me..."

"It IS NOT!"

"Is too."

"Is not."

"Is too."

"Is..."

"EXCUSE ME!"

 "YAH?" yelled Dairine from her room next door.

"NOT YOU!"

"...WHATEVER."

Nita distinctly heard her sister thinking something involving the term "Schitz."

"AND I'M NOT SCHIZOPHRENIC!" Nita turned her attention back to the pair of bite-sized powers sitting on her desk. "Um, anyway..."

Tweedledum and Tweedledee... ah, _the Lone One and the Champion_ blinked up at Nita.

 "Mhmm?" prompted the Champion sweetly.

"Ah... exactly... exactly _how_ long do you plan on staying here?"

"As long as it does."

"Until she leaves me alone."

"I can't, you're in a delicate stage of development right now. The transition between your other Self and your new Self is very important, you know. If it's not watched carefully, your old Self might take over... and what would we do if It did?"

"Uh.... okay..." _Now, how does one tell a power it's not the best time...?_

"You know, I _really_ don't like being referred to as 'it,'" the Lone Power was saying. "'It' in this language implies inanimate and non-sentient. Why do _you_ almost always get referred to by a person-pronoun and I don't?"

"Well, you _chose_ the male form, you know. In this culture, the male gender is utterly unremarkable."

"I never knew _you_ could be so sexist."

"Oh, no, not unremarkable like _that_. It's just that most cultures on this planet were originally male-dominant, so it was assumed that any genderless being would be male-identified."

"How can something be male-identified if it's genderless?"

"Well, we _are_ always depicted as being male by the pre-contemporary artists, you know. And we _are_ genderless. Technically."

"Yeah, but _they_ never knew that."

"But they _did_ guess."

"No, they just assumed we were male."

"See? That proves my point!"

"No, it doesn't. And, anyway, what does _that_ have to be with my being called 'it'?"

"They assume that genderless personages will look like guys. I don't, not currently. So I get to be called 'she' while you're 'it.'"

"That's reverse logic! And ex_cuse_ me for not liking my female form!"

"What's wrong with you're female form?"

"I don't like it! It's too cumbersome! And it's very... it's very... it's very _top-heavy!_"

The shocked silence weighed down on them like a month's worth of overdue math homework. Somewhere out there, a star went nova and took out all seven of its planets with it, but that was elsewhere.

"... _What?_ It's _true!_"

"I shall refrain from commenting that most people nowadays _like_ that. Hey, Meta, Thars', and Alphy have that problem, too, and they don't avoid their female f... okay, Alphy does, but..."

"I don't care, _I_ don't like it. People stare, and it's impossible to see where you're going, and it invites all sorts of stereotypes and lewd jokes..."

_I_ never _thought I would be stuck in the middle of this sort of conversation between, of all people, the One's Champion and the Lone One,_ Nita thought.

* * *

Some hours later, the Callahans and Nita's freeloaders were at the dinner table, and Dairine was giving an account of her latest intervention (which had had her on an obscure little planet in the outer regions in what is here known as Andromeda galaxy for up to six hours a day for the past week).

"...So, I say to Cthelas, 'It's alright, there's nothing wrong with your shraal, it's just the genetic disease acting up again,' right? And then he says..."

"You know, I remember that planet," the Lone One commented, stealing a meatball from Dairine's plate and munching on it absently. "It was _really_ hard trying to rearrange those people's DNA, do you know how complex the structure is?"

"It wasn't very nice, you know," the One's Champion reprimanded, taking the meatball from her  twin and taking a bite herself.

"Hey!"

"It's true!"

"No, give me back the meatball!"

("...and Jameson claims that all of the allegations are false," a news reporter on TV was saying. "Of course, having a degree in History of Culinary Arts is not the best recommendation for a presidential candidate...")

"Oh, the meatball. Sorry. Here." A pause. "You know, you never minded about that kind of stuff at the dawn of creation. We were _always_ sharing everything..."

"That's part of the _reason_ why I abdicated my post in the _first_ place," the Lone One replied with the distinct air of one who'd had to explain this about sixty times and counting, and was getting exasperated bordering on homicidal about it. "You were _always_ borrowing everything and _never_ returning it in the condition that you got it in!"

"H-hey, now..." stuttered the Champion, backing away slightly.

"And then there was that _one_ time you were doing an experiment in our _room_ while I was _busy_..."

"Uh... I thought we'd agreed not to discuss that any more..." Skootch. Skootch.

("...record high number of disappearances in the state of New York today... however, most of these were found to be because of a toupees anonymous meeting...")

"...and you LOST MY RANDOM PLOT-GENERATOR!"

"I...!" Skootch-SPLAT!

It was magnificent. It was spectacular. Sauce flew everywhere, and the looks of surprise on the faces of the three people who could see it were priceless.

And Dairine's dish became the first ever spaghetti, meatballs, and miniature One's Champion. Except most of the sauce had wound up elsewhere.

"Dairine? What did you just do?" asked Nita's dad, (after wiping the sauce from his face, of course).

"I dunno, it just flew everywhere, like something heavy fell in it..."

"Hey!" squeaked the One's Champion indignantly.

"Nita?"

Working jaw. Oh, no, wait, that's the foot. _Now_ working jaw. Blink, blink. Blink, blink. Searching for appropriate phrasing. Error. Error. Virtual memory insufficient. Warning! Warning! System failure! (Reverting to backup routine: now.)

"Squick?" said Nita.

"Oookay," Dairine frowned, waving a hand in front of Nita's face. "Hey, Nita? Are you okay? You're really out of it today, you know."

"Yeah... Kit said so, too... it's because of the... yeah..."

And then, Nita's mind made a quick decision for her.

This was a joke. A great, big cosmic joke that Someone up on high was playing on either her or her... ah... _guests_. And she would play along, and hope nothing blew up in the process. And she would try to find that book that had been randomly lying on her bed earlier. It might be useful.

Right.

Yeah.

Yeah...

Nita was dimly aware that she was giggling, and that everyone was staring at her. And that they probably thought she had gone nuts...

"PMS?" suggested the Lone One.

"You know, you never should have invented that. It was a really bad idea."

"Really? I thought it was the perfect excuse for everything."

"But you usually take the form of a male..."

"Uh, right. I don't know what I was thinking, then..."

* * *

A/N: ugh. This chapter was a complete mess. A total nightmare to write. And it's not as long as the other two, being mostly dialogue. I reiterate: ugh...

I'm not sure if this chapter is on the same standard as my other two; it was a transition chapter, which is always hard for me, and my miserable computer decided to have a midlife crisis halfway through, so I had to rewrite almost an entire scene. And it turned out in such a way that both the people who thought the prologue was OOC and the people who thought ch.1 was will probably _both_ think this one is. And I was behind schedule, and my father got annoyed that I was hogging the comp, and it's two in the morning, and...

Yeah. I'll stop griping now.

But no one answered the thingy about the names!

Remember, reviews are always welcome! Criticism will be taken seriously if meant seriously!

Oh, and also: If the Lone Power makes a statement, and Its twin isn't there to correct it, is It still wrong?


	4. Chapter 3: Disciplinary Measures

A/N: Ack. I didn't update last week... and right after Nirejseki made a comment that she was glad I updated regularly T_T. I'm sorry, I had a busy week that week... and the past week's been busy too, so I kept on trying to finish this but couldn't. Bleaugh. And I've been going through a stage, too... (Half the time, I'm more writing-oriented, and the rest, I tend to draw and compose. It's like my muses keep on taking turns shutting down parts of my brain...) ...and this always happens in the middle of something!

Ur... explanation about the Nita-not-explaining/introducing-the-presence-of-her-angels-to-other-people business... there's three reasons for that, actually. One of them is that the first two chapters and the prologue all happen in the space of one day, and she really isn't with anyone long enough to really get out of shock and explain... she gets up, is confronted with a miniature version of the Lone Power, and, _just_ when she's about to accept that, gets the One's Champion dropped on her head (or on the LP's head, as the case may be). The second is... well... how would _you_ explain to your family or friend that a pint-sized version of the ultimate evil in all creation, whom you and two out of three of the individuals encountered have vowed to fight? The third reason is that there's something further along that may not work without this. It _might_ work otherwise, but... I'm still a little undecided about it. We'll see.

Disclaimer:

"The Wizards series

Belongs to Diane Duane,

So please do not sue."

—a koi, speaking on my behalf.

* * *

**_On the Care and Keeping of Shoulder Angels_**

OR:

**_A Wizard Under Annoyingly Close Watch Due to the Boredom of a Certain Power_**** (_And the Kind But Unappreciated Concern of Its Sibling)_**

**Chapter Three: Disciplinary Measures**

_"It is well known that shoulder angels are, as a general rule, quite contrary creatures. Most believe that, to the angels' credit, it is due to their natures rather than any spite or inherent unpleasantness. However, this creates quite a large problem when taken in conjunction with the fact that the only beings normally capable of seeing them are their masters (for descriptions of the exceptions, reference "Special Adaptations," pg. 364) . This can cause massive problems, when left unchecked—the angels may attack or aggravate other humans (for which reason they are often, in real-life situations, confused for imps), or argue amongst themselves to such an extent that their owners may accidentally react to their antics in a visible manner, often resulting in their being branded as a lunatic or worse. Therefore, it is quite necessary to impress upon your angels how important it is to, at the very least, keep their antics down to a minimum."_

—St. Behemiel's _Guide to Popular Supernatural Household Pets Vol. 4: Shoulder Angels_

* * *

_Okay, the Ancient Romans associated Apollo with which of the Egyptian gods... come_ on, _I know this..._

It was Monday morning, history class. Nita had just had a somewhat restful night's sleep, albeit filled with odd dreams of coconuts and flying saucepans. The Lone One and the Champion had slept on her bedrails, hanging upside-down like a bat or clinging like a koala, respectively. Which probably explained the purple bats and pink koalas in her dreams. And was awakened in the morning by...

An argument. Surprise, surprise. Something about time zones and the relative correspondences between New York and Huitpochtli or some such... wherever that was.

But, in any case, Nita had the answer _just_ on the tip of her brain...

 "It was Horus. Annoying little fellow, I say. Kept on 'checking other people's work.' _I_ think he was just neurotic ..."

 "Shh, she's taking a test."

"So?"

_...um..._

"You're not supposed to tell her, dear."

"Why not? I don't see anything wrong with it..."

"She's supposed to figure it out by her _self_, that's the point of a test!"

_Uh, guys..._

"Oh, fbbth to you. I'm _me_, what do you think they modeled dishonesty after?"

"Don't get cute with me. And _that_ particular Power was Imhotep, too..."

"So? He was also Asclepius at one point. You hypocrite."

_...ah... hello...?_

"Well, they don't know that, do they? The point of tests here is to see how well you know the material presented to you—"

"Then why are you volunteering information like that?"

"Ex_cuse_ me, but I had just been asking _you_ the same thing."

"No, you didn't."

_Um,_ excuse _me..._

Nita's pencil point broke on her test paper.

"My dear, _dear_ brother, why oh _why_ is it that you have a memory that extends countless millennia, and yet _still_ can't remember the specifics of something you just said about half a minute ago?"

"Hah, _hah,_ oh _very_ funny. This is my minor form, electron-brain. _You_ know as well as I that we're _both_ closer to hominids in structure, and therefore cognitive ability, in this form..."

"In this _variation_ of this form, at any rate..."

"WILL YOU STOP CONTRADICTING MY EVERY WORD???"

"AAAAAAAH!" Nita screamed aloud. And was met with utter silence and nineteen pairs of eyes staring at her: those of her classmates(most of whom seemed to have cut classes to avoid the test), her teacher, and the two angels.

Blink. Blink.

Blinkety-blink blink blink.

"Uh... broke my pencil... aha... ahahahahaha.... ahem. Um.... .... ......... ..."

"Great going. Now they're going to think _you're_ neurotic," commented the Lone Power. And was promptly introduced to a saucepan, wielded by the Defender. Hello, Mr. Saucepan, how nice to meet you. I'd love to converse freely, but that REALLY HURT, so I think I'll just settle for something a bit less extensive.

"Ow!"

"And to _whom_ would the fault in _that_ lie?" the Defender rhetorical-question-ed, putting the saucepan away to wherever she'd gotten it from in the first place (presumably a claudication of some sort)

"Hey, _I_ wasn't the _only_ one!"

"Yes, but you started it."

"And _how,_ pray, was _I_ the one who started it?"

"You were giving her answers!"

"So?"

"That's cheating."

"...you know, it's times like this that I'm really not surprised you're the patron of policemen."

Nita's pencil paused over her latest answer as its owner peered over at the two bickering angels quizzically.

"...so? Yeah, I am. And Gabriel is the patron of communications workers, and Raphael has medical workers, and you've got lawyers..."

"Now, _that's_ just culture. It was never canonized."

"Wasn't it? I've never really kept track of what the Vatican thinks about us, there're just too many different opinions apart from them... where _did_ that come from, anyway?"

"..oh... I'm not sure, really. It may have been because of that one time..."

"That... that one time _what_? Why does your tone worry me?"

"I don't know why my tone worries you, should I be expected to read your mind? I'm talking about the one time I got bored of my day job and went to Harvard to get a degree in law so I could take a break from the monotony. I mean, you get rather tired of being chased hither and thither by wizards all the live-long day, you know. Lawyers are _much_ easier to deceive than wizards. Most of them, anyway. Well, at least in this continuum."

"...you went to _Harvard_ to get away from things?"

"..."

"Harvard. I swear. That was rather irresponsible of you, you know. We're not supposed to get _that_ involved in human lives.."

"Well, _excuse_ me, Mr. 'I'm-going-to-hang-around-in-Ireland-for-a-few-decades-and-hey!-why-don't-I-foster-an-illegitimate-child-with-a-_married_-woman-while-I'm-at-it?'"

"Now, _that_'s different."

"Different exactly _how?_"

"Now, I'll have you know..."

...and so it went....

* * *

About an hour and a half later, Nita and the rest of the students swarmed out of the classroom to their next classes (science, in Nita's case) like a sea of lemmings to the Arctic Ocean (except, in this case, it was some hundred-something different Arctic Oceans).

"So! What's your next class?"

_Um... Science..._

"Really? Great! Which course are you taking?"

The Defender was met by two sets of sidelong glances.

"What? I'm trying to take an interest."

"You don't need to necessarily sound like someone's mother while you're doing it, you know."

"I'm _sure_ I've been someone's mother at _some_ point in my existence."

"That's beside the point. You... squick!" it squeaked as it ran into the doorframe of Nita's science classroom.

"Watch your step."

"Oh, ha, ha, _very_ funny."

And then it noticed Nita and the Defender had already migrated to the other side of the room.

"Hey, you can't just ignore me like that!"

"No, we can't," agreed the Defender. "Look what happened the _last_ time we tried..."

"Are you implying something here?"

"Who, me? Perish the thought."

Nita, meanwhile, had taken her seat at the front, right corner of the room, and was dutifully unpacking her homework.

"Hi," the boy sitting next to her—George Peterson, the singularly most mundane-looking (muddy brown hair, thick glasses that disguised the color of his eyes, grubby complexion...) and sensibly confused individual she'd ever met—greeted. "Did you understand the homework? I didn't get the P-waves and S-waves..."

Nita blinked at him.

"But Mr. Reedley went over the entire thing in class about seven times last time..."

"He gave us the answers one by one, yes, but I don't really think he explained it..."

"How do you go over these answers without explaining the concept?"

"You birdbrain."

"You _what_?" asked Nita, before she realized it was the Lone Power, not George, who'd spoken.

"Uhh..." George blinked. Although it was hard to discern due to his impressive prescription.

("Now, you shouldn't resort to name-calling when I make a point," the Defender chided.)

"Um, never mind. I..."

At this point, the bell rang.

("I'm sorry. You made a _point_? I didn't quite catch it, there..." the Lone Power sneered, as said point flapped around his head looking more like a winged pig than anything.)

"Where's Mr. Reedley? Isn't he usually here at least a few minutes before class starts...?" George asked, looking around as though he expected Mr. Reedley to be hiding under a table. Or chair. Or the equipment cupboard. Or a piece of paper.

("That's because you don't pay attention to anything that doesn't involve something you can toss back in my face," the Defender replied calmly.)

"Maybe he's stuck in traffic?"

"But  the morning rush hour only lasts until about 8:30."

"That's what you think..."

"Eh?"

Birds fly south, salmon swim upstream, caribou migrate to new feeding grounds, and Nita confuses the comments of the Lone One for George's.

"..." George agreed.

"...oh, never mind. Alright, here, look, I'll explain this to you while we wait for Mr. Reedley to show up... Um.... okay, the P-waves are the faster waves, and they can go through all of the states of matter in the interior of the earth, so..."

...some time later...

"...so, the event horizon is where you get sucked in? Like the edge of the little swirly tornado thing at the bottom of a draining tub?" asked George. Their conversation had bounced its way along like a mad bunny on steroids through P- and S-waves, the speed of sound through different states of matter, what causes a sonic boom, and the prospect of exceeding the speed of light, finally landing with an awkward _fwump!_ into the wild and wonderful cabbage patch of black holes.

"...uh, sort of," Nita replied. "Well, it's rather... no... wait, that's about right..."

_Okay, it's been about half an hour into class. Two thirds of the class did not show up, including the teacher. My last class was also missing a good number of students. It could be a coincidence, but I somehow doubt it... I think now would be a rather good time to try to figure out what's wrong..._

"Uh, excuse me, George, I've got to go..."

"Oh, okay. Don't forget to turn in a bathroom pass."

"Uh, right..."

Nita rushed out the classroom to the nearest girl's bathroom and hurriedly locked herself into a stall, followed closely by the two shoulder angels (who had, up until then, been arguing the entire time). She then pulled open her claudication and fished out her manual.

"Okay... search options, search options... Wait a minute, what am I doing? I've done this before... ack, not enough space...aw, man..."

Nita stepped out of the 2x2 stall and looked around.

"Um... there's enough space here, but... look, could at least one of you keep watch for me and make sure no one comes in here?"

"I'll do that," the Lone One offered, fluttering off.

"Okay..."

Nita blinked, frowned and stepped back, trying to calculate how much room she would use.

"Need help?" chirped the Defender.

"Uh... what?"

"I can help you with that..."

"Oh... okay..."

The two of them set to work on the spell as the Lone Power aero-stalked around the entrance like a paranoid barn-owl who had recently left its previous habitat for one night, only to return to find it replaced by a gigantic strip mall.

Nita found that, despite the Champion's... eccentricities... in her current form, she was still a very big help in completing the spell. Hence, she was already almost done with the spoken part of the spell when the Lone Power outside was confronted with a large blond girl trying to get in. Hence, Nita did not notice the yelling outside as the little ball of  fluff and semi-redeemed evil engaged in trying to shoo the girl away. Hence, it was unable to alert Nita and was hindered by the fact that it was invisible, and too small to be much of a threat even if seen, anyway. Hence, the struggle was more akin to an American tourist in Africa trying to fight off  a midget bat in the middle of the night than anything else.

The effects of the spell blossomed outward... a little window appeared in front of Nita a foot outside the edge of the spell circle...

What happened next was timed so perfectly that some divine choreographer must have sat down and specifically planned it that way.

Firstly, the blond girl, one Joanne Virella, in fact, rushed into the bathroom with a slam of the door, having somehow dodged the Lone Power... who was nonetheless still pulling on her hair.

Secondly, a black ball of not-stuff popped out of the "window," hovered in the air for a brief moment as though considering its surroundings, and then, without warning, _zwshhhh!_-ed right at Nita.

Now, if you can imagine two little toy cars traveling at a right angle towards one another, one x-units away from the vertex and traveling at y-speed, the other 2x-units away and traveling at 2y-speed and covered in half-dry whipped cream....

The result was rather like a bowl of ten-week old custard left out too long, either due to irresponsibility or an intrepid young student trying to do an experiment on mold culture, plopping onto the nice, linoleum floor and going in all directions.

Or:

SPLAT.

In so many words.

Silence, grumbling at having to come back to this group of idiots after _just_ escaping, settled rather sulkily over the entire scene for a few moments before giving up as the Lone Power burst out into hysterical laughter.

"This is _not_ funny!" the Defender asserted. Her twin got a hold of itself immediately, although there was still an amused smirk on its face.

"Funny? Oh, no one said it was funny. It's just..."

"Callahan!" Joanne Virella advanced upon Nita, looming like the GREAT SPECTER OF DEATH! ...except the specter of death itself was right there, and very much incapable of looming in its current form. "What the [censored] do you think you're..."

"Um, Nita...!" squeaked the Defender, not looking at Joanne.

"What..." began Nita... and then stopped, as she felt a tug on her manual, which was jerking spastically towards the little window (which had not disappeared as the spell terminated). "Hey! That's mine!"

A fierce little tug-of-war ensued, in which Nita and, apparently, the window battled for possession of her manual...

"You tried to help her, didn't you!?" the Lone Power yelled at its sibling, grabbing hold of Nita's manual to help pull.

"Yeah! What about it?" the Defender replied, flapping in to help.

"I should have known, you...rrgh!"

"What are you implying!?"

"Oh, nothing, nothing at all! It's just that you're such an unreliable klutz sometimes!"

"Hey! It's not _my_ fault this turned out differently than the way we wanted it to! I've _never_..."

"Oh, yeah? What about the one time you blew up that planet...!?"

"That was an accident!"

"AND THAT'S MY POINT EXACTLY!"

And then, all three of them were suddenly thrown backwards as a something black and _very_ fast shot out of her manual and back to the windowlet, which promptly closed. Nita and the two mini-powers stared at the spot where it vanished for a moment.

"...is everyone okay?" Nita asked finally.

"Um... that girl's gone..." the Lone Power commented, pointing where Joanne had stood moments before.

And, indeed, Joanne had disappeared. Nita blinked.

"Weird..." she commented uneasily.

"Maybe she went away after all that?"

"Uh, right..." Nita frowned. "I think I'll... check to see if I'm on active..."

She flipped through her manual to check her stats. They read:

_"CLLHN, Junit T._

_E. Clinton venue_

_Hempsted__ NY 11575_

_(516)555-6786_

_Journeymn__ rting 243_

_(RL +4.5+/-.15)_

_On ctive sttus"___

"Um... aren't there supposed to be more a's there?" Nita asked, frowning. She flipped her manual to the front cover...

It read, "So You Wnt to Be Wizrd."

"Oh, great..." Nita moaned, staring at it. "Can either of you tell me what this means?"

* * *

A/N: Whee! The plot's actually getting started now! Gasp! Although this may not be exactly what it sounds like... remember, this _is_ a humor. 

Ur... there are a couple of things I'm not sure about the accuracy of... I based Nita's stats on the ones in High Wizardry, I'm not certain if they changed by the end or not... and I'm not sure if lemmings jump into the Arctic or the Pacific, but... please excuse me if I'm wrong ^_^7.

Comments are always welcome!

And while you're at it, ponder this: if knowledge is power, and power corrupts, then what does knowledge do?


	5. Chapter 4: Practical Training

A/N: Yay! Semiramis is finally updating! (btw, if this goes on for to long, you can just scroll down and skip it; I assure you, there IS actually a chapter buried under there somewhere.) Unfortunately, my life has become rather hectic, what with my changing schools recently and having a whole bunch of other stuff I have to do for school outside of school (i.e., I've done part of this in what little time I had before the football game, which I, as a band member, had to help provide entertainment fore whilst the players are otherwise occupied. Ooh, goody -_-;;); and the way one of my muses, who just HAPPENS to be the one that deals with this kind of thing, has developed a taste for hitting me really hard upside the head before running off laughing madly, possibly wearing purple polka-dots and singing Auld Lang Syne, too. (Oy, long sentence...) But I'm making excuses, aren't I?

Anyway (if you've read my recent profile-turned-update-blog, you can skip this paragraph), because of all that, I've decided to officially change my update schedule to bimonthly until further notice, just so you don't waste your time checking every week... I'll try to update as often as possible, but there aren't any guarantees there. Sorry...

Oh, and the new book was published recently! *does little happy-dance* And thus are my little discontinuities with the plot exposed... although it does save me a little explaining over WHY the LP is supposed to be "in an instable state" at this point (s/he/it explains something her/him/itself that would be a perfectly reasonable explanation for it... well, ignore the fact that practically nothing ELSE in this 'fic is reasonable...). But it discounts the entire little conversation about the LP and its female humanoid form, which a lot of people didn't like anyway... Oh well. "Female Judeo-Christian form," then, since I hardly ever notice any strictly female demons in j/c lore, unless you count Lilith, who was technically originally supposed to be human before her little... falling out. And whatnot. But then again, the Powers do take human form... AGGH! (okay, must stop contradicting self....) 

Btw, the little reference the LP made in the previous chapter regarding... Power-to-human relationships... was to the Lugh persona and his son, Cuhullain, which is explained in the little appendix-thingy of WA.

Disclaimer: If you happen to be Diane Duane, or her publisher, or her editor, or her husband, or one of her cats, or anyone else associated with her and/or the YW series who has the legal rights to it... please, please, PLEEEAAASE don't sue me! I have no money! And I really don't mean anything by making fun of all of the characters, really! And the government isn't really secretly paying me to corrupt your readers and make them into... um... oops... that is to say... ahem...

...ah... so... on with the story!

* * *

**_On the Care and Keeping of Shoulder Angels_**__

OR:

**_A Wizard Under Annoyingly Close Watch Due to the Boredom of A Certain Power and the Kind but Unappreciated Concern of Its Sibling_**__

**Chapter Four: Practical Training**

_"Quite outside of all of the delights and wonders that come with raising a shoulder angel are the many practical uses they may serve; not least among these protection, guidance, and numerous wizardly applications. The last of these is a subject in which almost all shoulder angels excel; it is of note that many of the famous wizards and mages of times past were themselves keepers of angels, who had most assuredly saved their masters time, power, and, indeed, life on quite a few occasions. However, it is strongly cautioned that any shoulder angel-keeper, regardless of past experience with either angels or the Craft, allow their angels to assist in the wizardry of any kind without first knowing what they are doing. Although most angels definitely mean well, it is wise to remember that they are not human, and therefore do not have the same conceptions as humans do about what is unnecessarily endangering to those around them."_

—St. Behemiel's _Guide to Popular Supernatural Household Pets Vol. 4: Shoulder Angels_

* * *

Three pairs of eyes stared at Nita's manual (minus the letter A's) for a few moments.

"You know, I'm not exactly sure what's going on here," the Lone One stated, finally breaking the silence, "but I think I know a way to find out."

"Yeah? How? I'm all for it, especially if it can explain the _other_ disappearances..." Nita replied.

"...okay, where's the messaging section of your manual? We need..."

"OOOH no, you're not thinking of doing _that,_ are you?" the Defender interrupted.

"That depends on what you mean by _that_."

"Messaging our dear sibling, the manager of this system."

"One of Them, yes. _What,_ pray, is wrong with that?"

"What's wrong? What's _wrong?_ Your relationship with Him is already on unsteady enough ground as it is! Please, _please_ consider how much trouble it would cause if—"

"Oh, come _on_! We genuinely need His help on this one..."

"Can't you just talk to Gabriel?"

"Show me Gabriel, and I'll talk to Him."

"..."

"No? I didn't think so. And, anyway, He's in charge of the nonsolid edition, and the problem is with _this_, not that. Now, if we may continue..."

"Alright, fine."

Nita obediently opened her manual to the appropriate pages (shooting both of her angels an odd glance, nevertheless). The Lone Power immediately swooped in over the book and did something indiscernible with it. When it stood back, there was a low-quality, horribly pointillized image of the textbook persuasion that looked rather like (if you squinted one eye and tilted your head back as far as it could go while still being able to see the page) a scowling young man with light hair, probably blond, maybe white (it was hard to tell with a black-and-white image); wire-rimmed glasses, which were positioned in a very centered way on the bridge of his nose (although, again, it was hard to tell due to picture quality, or lack thereof); and what looked like a lab coat (yet again difficult to tell, though; the picture was only from shoulders up). All in all, he looked like a rather young doctor, or a lab assistant, or maybe even a teacher. However, a few moments later, a far more interesting distraction appeared on the page in the form of a comic-book style speech bubble, filled with what looked like a typewriter-font version of the written Speech:

HOW IN ONE'S N-ME DID YOU GET THE -UTHORIZ-TION TO DO TH-T?*

(*A/N: the dashes are substituting missing A's, because I realized later on it was very hard to understand without them.)

"..." replied Nita. "...um, do I just communicate normally with this thing, or do I have to..."

New words were forming in the speech bubble.

YES, YOU COMMUNIC-TE NORM-LLY WITH THIS _THING_. NOW -NSWER MY QUESTION.

"Uh... I didn't... do that. Um..."

She gestured vaguely at her shoulder angel... then realized that she was the only person capable of seeing it. Then realized that, since she was viewing a static image, the person on the other end probably was, too. Then realized that she was wrong in making at least one of the previous assumptions, because the pale-haired Power was already responding.

OH. IT'S YOU. I SHOULD H-VE KNOWN... _WH-T_ H-VE YOU DONE THIS TIME? I DON'T...

At this point, the bubble cleared itself from lack of space and restarted the process of filling itself.

...SUPPOSE YOU'VE M-N-GED TO C-USE TOO MUCH TROUBLE YET, RIGHT? EVEN...

..._YOU_ -REN'T _TH-T_ IRRESPONSIBLE, I SHOULD HOPE.

"No, Raphie, I'm not. In fact, I'm wondering about a few things that seemed to have gone wrong on _your_ end. Like _why_, for an example, have all the a-type characters disappeared from the manual?"

WH-T -RE YOU T-LKING -BOUT? YOU H-D BETTER NOT BE PULLING -NOTHER OF YOUR...

RIDICULOUS LITTLE PR-NKS -GI-N...

 "Oh, he's not," the Champion quipped in. "They—the a-types, that is, not the pranks—seemed to have disappeared around the time Nita here was struggling to keep it from being sucked up by what looked like a paradox or warp of some sort..."

Nita could have sworn the picture had blinked at this.

HM. YOU'RE THERE, TOO? WHY...

A pause, in which the words began to fade out.

...OH, NEVER MIND. I'M CERTI-N IT'S F-SCINTING, BUT I'M -LSO CERTI-N I DON'T NEED...

...TO KNOW -BOUT IT.

...HM. WH-T W-S IT YOU WERE S-YING -BOUT P-R-DOXES? 

"HOW COME _SHE_ GETS LISTENED TO, HUH?"

...HUSH, BROTHER.

"We were doing a search spell, since half the school seems to have gone missing, and then we got interrupted by a blond girl, but... no, wait, a little black window that looked like a tear or paradox or anomaly of some sort appeared first, and then we got interrupted, and then the hole started to pull on... no, it splattered something first, in the girl's face, and _then_ it started to pull on the manual, and the girl was gone, and now... yeah, that's all, I think."

...

The Power in the manual, presumable Raphael, just stared blankly out from the page. (Once again, Nita failed to detect any noticeable change, but _something about the picture seemed to be staring now rather than glaring.)_

...HOW... VERY... CONFUSING...

"It's a shame we can't just communicate mind to mind in these forms rather than relying on one of _her_ exemplary-inverted-sentence-structure-stories."

"Oh, like _you_ could do better?"

"Yes, I could, in fact. For starters, I would try to tell the events in _the order they occurred._"

STOP H-R-SSING YOUR SIBLING.

"WHO'S THE ONE GETTING HARASSED ALL THE TIME, HUH?"

Nita was starting to feel a vague pity for the Lone Power due to its family affairs... and for its family, who had to deal with it.

I SH-LL REFR-IN FROM -NSWERING SUCH - CHILDISH DEM-ND.

...-NYWAY... THIS IS CERT-INLY -N... ODD.. OCCUR-NCE.

"So you have no idea what happened?" Nita asked, before the Lone Power could get in another snide and/or hotheaded comment.

NO. I'LL LOOK INTO IT... -LTHOUGH IT PROB-BLY H-S SOMETHING TO DO WITH...

..WH-TEVER IT W-S YOU WERE LOOKING FOR. WH-T W-S IT -GIN?

"...half the freshman class, and a teacher, all of whom had somehow gone missing. And it's nowhere near any religious holidays."

YES, YES. I'LL GET IN TOUCH IF I FIND -NYTHING. IT M-Y BE JUST -N INDIVIDU-L...

...PROBLEM, THIS IS... UNUSU-L, HIGHLY UNPRECEDENTED...

Nita suddenly noticed the text was getting very small and hard to read. She assumed this was because Raphael was trailing off into mutters and therefore not saying anything important, and was at least partially proven correct when the picture was blinked out, leaving the normal blank sheets for communication.

"...well." Nita stared down at the blank pages as though she expected another face to pop up and deliver an A-free greeting. "..um... why did we have to talk to Him like that? Does the normal mode not work in situations like this?"

"No, it was to get his attention," the Lone One replied carelessly. "That particular little visual-link system was abandoned a long time ago, partially because He found it annoying that He had to change the bubble every dozen words or so, partially because we found better visual-link systems almost immediately after."

"Then why do you need an authorization for it?"

"Ah, the evils of bureaucracy. And they say _I'm_ the evil one? Just look at dear ol' Raphie-boy there and his darling _absolutism_ with rules.."

"There's a legitimate reason, though," the Defender contradicted gently. "You see, because that option was disabled in a normal manual, the only person it would be able to reach, should you activate the 'send' option in a manual, would be Raphael. So, if he left the 'send' option open to anyone who cared to try, he'd be stuck with micromanaging more completely than he does already..."

"Not that he doesn't seem to _enjoy_ it..." the Lone One muttered under its breath.

"That's not nice."

"Hey, he _deserves_ every single thing I've ever..."

And Nita did suffer through another greatly prolonged and equally pointless argument.

* * *

_And now for something completely different..._

"What do you want to do?" asked Joanne. She was standing in what appeared to be an obscure void of some sort. It wasn't dark, per se, but rather vague, as though the gaze simply slid off of it—causing the mind to reject both the notion that it may have been dark, and that it may have been at all lit. Joanne was not alone; there were many other people wandering aimlessly around the not-place, although some had gathered in groups of varying size and organization. It was one of these groups Joanne had been addressing.

"I don't know, what do you want to do?" replied Generic Innocent Bystander, back in the present that had so kindly waited (perhaps not patiently, but at least it waited) for the Narration to pass and leave it alone.

"Someone should figure out something we can do," replied someone who would have been vaguely recognized by Nita as her father's new assistant, Mike.

"It's SOOO boring here."

"I wonder if there's something we can do elsewhere in this place?"

"Maybe. Where are we, anyway?"

"What are you asking _me_ for?"

"It was a general question directed at the majority of the group. I should think at least _one_ of us would know..."

A pause.

"Nope."

"Not me."

"Nuh-uh."

"Nothing here."

"Ditto."

"Same here."

"Me too."

"Sec—ah, fourth that."

Another pause, before all of those present realized there was no one else to add in their two cents. Or one cent, as the case may be, since the statement that the party doesn't know isn't worth as much on the open market as actual information. Nor on the black market, for that matter.

"How did we get here, anyway?"

Another pause, over which an ominous cloud hung... but no one noticed it, so it just floated away, to find some other conversation to hover over. (Not that any success was even close to guaranteed; where it was, most people didn't notice anything).

"Gee, I dunno."

And the group lapsed into dull, uninterested silence, joining the other aimless amblers who, when taken as a whole, remarkably resembled a flock of sheep in the pasture.

Elsewhere, a presence was floating around. Well, actually, two presences. Well, actually, one of them was floating around; the other was idly watching it, trying to make some sense of the events of the past day and one half.

_This is utterly ridiculous,_ commented the stationary one. _These people are_ so _irritatingly aimless, it's a wonder I ever thought it would help..._

_Well, you did do this to yourself,_ the other replied dreamily. _It was your idea in the first place... teehee..._

_Hrrmph__._

_...what are_ you _doing here, anyway? I would have thought_ you _wouldn't be attracted to the terms..._

The ambulatory presence, the smaller one, giggled again.

_I needed a break. Raphael's a dear, really, once you get used to his neuroses, and Nita's really nice, too, but... really, I needed a change of pace. A little break. You know what they say about wizard's holidays... the same applies to me, you know. And I genuinely like it here._

_I don't see how._

The only response received was soft, dream-sound laughter that, despite its almost inaudible volume, seemed to echo slightly.

And then, against the odds, our friend the ominous cloud found another silence to hover over. But all it was given was a glance and a knowing smile, and was then once more ignored after that.

* * *

A/N: muahahahaha... cliffie:)... not muahaha, short chappie -_-;;;...

Big question: is this ficcy turning serious?

Big semi-rhetorical question: _how_ do you turn a ficcy serious when you've already turned the gods/angels/whatevers into miniature fountains of advice for your friendly, neighborhood, slightly exasperated high-school student (who just so _happens_ to be a wizard),both sound and otherwise? If you can find a way, please tell me. I'm not kidding—it's not like I'm planning to make this 'fic serious, but I'd be really curious to find out. If you can accomplish it, then, congratulations, you are officially a better plotist than I. Although if you are, you probably already know/already guessed/should-have-known-if-it-weren't-for-whatever-confidence-troubles-you-are-facing and don't need me to tell you unnecessarily in an impersonal A/N, two cases out of three. If you believe you fall under the third category... then you don't, because that's part of the job description! ... no, just kidding. Ack, I need to stop being like this to my readers... bad enough that I'm abusive towards fictional characters... 

And, oh, something I remembered while I was writing in Mike the florist's helper... has anyone else noticed how many Mikes there are? Mike the Power, Mike the florist, Mike the cat's owner... and then one could possibly count Miguel as a foreign permutation...

C&C appreciated! (i.e., what should I stop doing, what should I not stop doing, what am I overdoing, what am I underdoing... you know the drill.)

And always remember the answer to that age-old question:

A woodchuck would chuck as much wood as a woodchuck would if a woodchuck could chuck wood.


	6. Chapter 5: Controlled Collaboration

A/N: And, thus, I instate my new update schedule. And suddenly realize that it coincides with the football games at which I must be a little dancing monkey for halftime _perfectly_. Joy. Really. If there's a Power that presides over Murphy's law...

Um, sorry that this is a half a day late. Ff.net was evil when I finished this and wouldn't let me log on... *grind grind grind*

Yeeeahhh. Okie dokie...

Announcement/shameless plug: I've gotten a deviantart account, which can be found at semiramis.deviantart.com, for those of you who are wondering what I'm up to instead of what I'm supposed to be doing (i.e., finishing this 'fic, for one). Not much is posted yet. Okay, almost nothing is posted yet. But I _do_ have a fanart of Dairine posted, since I've noticed there is almost no YW fanart _whatsoever_ on the web (if anyone knows where to find more, please tell me, I'd like to know). I _do_ plan to put up a few illustrations for my fanfiction (which is why this announcement is in any way relevant to the 'fic)... as soon as I finish something that doesn't look like a bunch of chicken scratch, that is...

Disclaimer: I own nothing but the keyboard I'm typing this with minus the plastic and wiring and whatever else a keyboard contains. I.e., zilch. Nadda. Nothing. Zippo. Big fat doughnut with negative sprinkles on top. So don't bother suing me, because a) I'm not liable, and b) you won't get anything out of it, anyway.

...Except maybe a piece of my dead muse. Does anyone want the metaphysical corpse of a muse, for really cheap? I need the money...

* * *

**_On the Care and Keeping of Shoulder Angels_**__

OR:

**_A Wizard Under Annoyingly Close Watch Due to the Boredom of A Certain Power and the Kind but Unappreciated Concern of Its Sibling_**__

**Chapter Five: Controlled Collaboration**

_"Despite initial hardships the owner may face, most shoulder angels will be quite capable of maintaining stable relationships with individuals of all dispositions after prolonged exposure. It is then, when this equilibrium is reached, that it is safe to begin operating with your angels regularly. As you first begin applying your angel to practical pursuits, be certain to give the angel due respect while still maintaining a dominant position in the efforts. While it is important for the owner to be in control, it is also vital to both the well-being of your relationship and your health to keep an angel's dignity from being affronted."_

—St. Behemiel's _Guide to Popular Supernatural Household Pets Vol. 4: Shoulder Angels_

* * *

"So... what did you want to meet me after school for?"

Kit and Nita were walking briskly home from school together; although this rarely happened anymore, Nita had mind-touched with Kit and asked him to talk later.

"Ah... this is going to sound odd... but could I take a look at your manual?" requested Nita. 

"Why? Can't you just use yours?"

"...there's something seriously wrong with mine. It's getting really hard to read."

"What? You can't read your manual? Maybe the Lone Power is interfering!"

"The Lone Power is interfering," muttered said entity. "It's just not interfering in the way you think it is." And was swatted at by its sibling.

"...no," Nita disagreed firmly (although the effect was rather diminished by the fact that she was trying _very_ hard to ignore the miniature episode of Jerry Springer unfolding behind her). "I know for a fact that It's not. Unless it can delete all of the alpha-type characters from my manual, that is. Here, take a look... it's _really_ weird..."

("I CAN'T DO THAT!" came a yell from inside the whirling ball of feathers behind her. "RAPHAEL WOULD PUNT ME FROM HERE TO TARTARUS!")

"..wow, that's weird," Kit commented. Rather redundantly.

"Yeah. No kidding. So can I borrow yours?"

"Uh..." Kit hesitated. "I'm not sure how it'd react to a different user."

"Oh?" Nita raised an eyebrow in Slight Surprise (tm).

"Well, you know how Spot is when other people try to log on..."

"Okay, good point. Can you help me reference a few things while I look on over your shoulder, then?" she amended.

"Sure. Hang on..."

There was a pause as Kit fished his manual out of his claudication.

"..okay, what do you need?"

"Mmm..." Nita thought for a moment. "Uh... well, I seem to be on assignment concerning a number of disappearances. A rather LARGE number. Let's look up the precedents to a large-scale disappearance of non-wizards like... oh, shoot. We're supposed to split up here."

"It's alright, you can come over. Okay, large-scale disappearances..."

Kit flipped to the search section in the back of his manual.

"Show me all the relevant precedents for a situation in which there were large-scale disappearances," he enunciated clearly in the speech.

_Wizardly or non-wizardly?_

"Nita?"

"...Uhm... most of them are non-wizardly, probably. I mean, how many wizards can you have in a single school?"

"What she said."

_...see highlighted section_.

"Okay..."

"Whoa. That's a _lot_," Kit noted, as his manual expanded. "Are there any things you can do to make it more specific?"

"I can do _lots_ to make it less specific. The people didn't seem to have anything in common, aside from being in my classes. Except Joanne. And the alpha-type characters in my manual."

"Wait. _That_ was part of the disappearances?"

Nita shrugged. "As far as I can tell."

"Well... there must be _something_ they have in common."

"Help me think, then. It's not helping anything to just state the obvious like—"

And it was at this point that Nita and Kit, who were quite absorbed in their conversation, crashed headlong into a familiar, stinging presence and got coffee spilt all over them.

It was quite like one of those bizarre, once-in-a-lifetime incidents in which you're walking down the aisles of a supermarket, say, and suddenly bump _right_ into your most deadly rival in your high-school debate team or somesuch... carrying a basket full of raw fish and a cart full of party balloons and clown costumes, respectively. Only worse.

Nita and Kit took in the business suit (which, for the most part, hadn't changed) and the little brass name-pin (which was the only part of the suit that had) proclaiming "James R. McCain—Attorney." The briefcase and the file, labeled (in precise, neat, needlessly microscopic, and therefore nearly impossible to read handwriting) "Penelope Thomas—custody dispute." The cup of Starbucks coffee (now nearly empty, considering most of its contents were now all over Kit and Nita). The little Einstein Bro's Bagels doggy bag (which was now also slightly soggy from coffee).

The gaze of the fellow in question, meanwhile, flicked from Nita and Kit to their manual to the two miniature Powers (visible, apparently, only to Him and Nita), who had stopped yanking on each other's hair for long enough to stare back.

"Hey..." began the Little Lone Power.

Nita and Kit opened their mouths simultaneously to utter the customary overture before being interrupted.

"Alright, I'll be blunt here. If you ignore me, I'll ignore you, and we can all go our merry little ways and pretend this never happened."

For sets of jaws worked silently for a moment, before Nita finally mustered the voice to respond.

"Okay. That's good. No problem. Works for me. Come on, Kit... _moving on..._" she rattled, grabbing Kit by the upper arm and pulling him around the Lone Power and away.

The Lone Power, meanwhile, continued to stare at its miniature self and sibling, who had not moved an inch either.

"...you know, I don't quite remember this ever happening," it (the little Lone Power, that is) commented noncommittally.

"...I see," its other self replied. And was relieved of the need for further comments by a belligerent yell from Random Expendable Driver from somewhere in the blocked traffic.

"GET OFF THE [censored] ROAD, YAH [censored]!!!!!!!"

Although it isn't all that important, said Driver later suffered a horrible ulcer upon arriving home.

* * *

Nita and Kit were still deliberating when they finally reached Kit's house.

"Well, maybe it has something to do with their relationships to you?" suggested Kit. "I mean, maybe it's that _you're_ the target, not them, and that they're trying to knock off all the people who're highly influential to your life..."

"Yeah, and Joanne the junior-high bully, who I had not spoken to for almost a year prior to the incident earlier today, falls under the 'highly influential' category _how,_ exactly?"

"...okay, scratch that. It's just... almost every singly thing we've come up with has something wrong with it..."

"...yeah. Maybe..." Nita thought for a moment. "...no, never mind. I can't think of anything else."

"This is so..." began Kit as he opened the door.

And was interrupted as the loveable puppy Ponch leapt over his and Nita's heads and rammed into the two shoulder angels behind them like a several-ton truck plows through a pair of children's bicycles.

_Crunch._

Kit blinked a few times.

"Nita, tell me my dog didn't just fly over our heads at thin air," he deadpanned, staring straight ahead.

"..." replied Nita, who had turned around to check if her... charges were okay.

They were—both had somehow escaped the nasty-sounding collision fairly undamaged, and were creatively evading the dog's playful snapping. And emphatically cursing his upbringing, his appearance, and his lineage in the Lone Power's case.

"I thought..." began Nita. Kit turned to see what she was talking about.

"Oh... gghhh. He's gone nuts, I swear he has. _Poncho! Down! Heel!_" No response. "Ponch... oh... hold on..."

Kit disappeared inside his house for a moment before reemerging, armed with a plant mister.

"PONCH!"

Squirt, squirt.

"Wow," commented Nita as the dog stopped immediately in surprise, blinking.

"Yeesh... he usually doesn't do that... well, he _does_ do that, but not to thin air..."

Nita decided to take the opportunity. She opened her mouth to explain that, no, Ponch was _not_ snapping at thin air, before—

"GAAAH! NO! DON'T!!!" yelled the One's Champion

"....what?"

"I said he doesn't do that to thin air," Kit repeated, misunderstanding (understandably).

"You know, there actually _is_ a reason why you're supposed to be the only person who can see us," the Lone Power commented.

_Being_ what, _exactly?_

"Explain later. Talk to partner now."

"Uh... okay..."

"Yeah," agreed Kit, mistaking Nita's comments for acknowledgement.

"Um..."

"You know, maybe we could try another search spell," Kit suggested. "It sounds like the one you were doing in the bathroom couldn't have been very effective, given the amount of space and time you had to complete it..."

"Another search spell?"

"It worked on our ordeal. Why not?"

"And now you have a focus!" piped the One's Champion.

"...???"

"The manual should be connected to the alpha-type characters. Right?"

"That won't necessarily work," the Lone One contradicted. "It may not be connected with the incidents at all; it could be just a coincidence."

"Well, it's an awfully big coincidence, isn't it? And, anyway, you know coincidences don't..."

"But _that_ only applies to incidents involving the One's design."

"Well, if you think about it, just about _everything_ involves the One's design. Even including the stuff you did, possibly."

"That's a load of fudge!"

"It is _not_."

"Is too."

"Is not."

"Is too."

"It is _not_."

"It is _so!_"

"Is _not!_"

"IS..."

At this point, Nita grabbed the mister from Kit and gave the arguing angels a good squirt. And was stared at by all, even Ponch (although he had already been watching the entire exchange—with a level of interest only dogs can achieve, of course—so perhaps he didn't count).

"Sorry," she said.

* * *

It was decided that the spell should be done in Central Park, where there was more room and better privacy for them to work in. Ponch and the angels, of course, insisted upon coming along—which created all sorts of interesting diversions as they prepared for the spell.

"Ponch, _stop_ that. No, really, _stop._ Poncho!"

Ponch had been rearing up on his hind legs and trying to catch the Lone One, who had not yet realized that the dog was chasing him merely _because_ of its trying to evade him.

"You know," commented the Champion conversationally (as her sibling cursed up a storm in the background), "you're not supposed to be able to see us at all."

The dog stopped jumping up and down to cock his head at the Champion.

_Really?_

"Yeah. We're supposed to be able to control who's able to see us. It's a bit of a security thing, you see."

_?_

"Basically, most of Us—the Powers, that is, don't want people to know we can take this form. It's a little awkward, you see—Some of us used to float around as these little mini-people to specifically instruct wizards before Raziel got the idea to write it down somewhere... and then Raphie took over... and then... and then... what point was I trying to make again?"

_I don't know._

Nita and Kit, meanwhile, were completing the last of the written part of the spell. The two of them had been working from the same spot on one side of the spell, both going around in reverse directions to meet on the opposite side.

"Oh! I'll help!" offered the Champion as she realized the two of them had finished.

"..._no_, you will _not,_" the Lone One emphasized, grabbing the back of its sibling's sweater.

"Okay...." Nita sighed, tying the wizard's knot. "Now..."

And they began the speaking part. And Silence returned, albeit rather grudgingly (being quite irritated at being turned into a running joke).

* * *

Nita and Kit hovered silently over a dull scene. It was empty. It was boring. It was tiresome. It was mind-numbing. It was... And the Authoress runs out of synonyms as her thesaurus is snatched away by an irritated muse who turns out to have been only partially dead.

There was a bleak, windblown field. There was a bleak, windy sky. There was a person walking through it all—who, upon closer inspection, turned out to be Ronan Nolan.

A little black hole opened up next to our dear friend Ronan.

Ronan stopped walking and stared at it.

It stared at him. He stared at it. It stared at him....

Or that would have been what had happened, had the thing had eyes. As it happened, it didn't, so Ronan had to content himself with simply staring and not being stared at. This went on for a few minutes, seemingly.

Finally...

"LEAVE ME THE [censored] ALONE!" Ronan snarled, before turning heel and continuing upon his merry way.

Meanwhile...

Meanwhile, Nita and Kit wafted gently in their bubble of wizardry, towards ground... towards the tear... _through_ the tear...

A brief impression of darkness, and wandering figures, and a thin, cellophane-esque film stretched almost to breaking point imprinted itself upon Nita's and Kit's minds before they were shot back out of the tear like a coin off the surface of a home-made barometer.

At this point, Nita and Kit felt themselves hurling off into some metaphysical not-place on the edge of the mountains of a man's conscious and the vast abyss of his subc—

...or not.

But they _were_ hurtling out towards parts unknown.

_What happened?_ Nita yelled in her head, since voices generally don't work that well in her given state.

_I don't know!_ came Kit's reply. _I think something went wrong!_

_No, you_ think? Nita replied sarcastically. _We must have hit some sort of barrier..._

And Nita and Kit said nothing more.

Although this was probably aided by the fact that they had just landed in a pile of papers, on what looked like someone's desk.

Nita groaned in pain, trying to take stock of the situation. Okay, vocal chords working, so now in normal physical state again. Face crushed into a pile of papers, in a direction that is presumably down. Kit's elbow jabbing painfully into small of back from the right, so probably landed before him. Kit's foot in stomach from the left, so...

Wait a minute.

One... two... three...

Three!!???

Nita rolled over and sat up abruptly, looking to either side of her. The elbow had, indeed, belonged to Kit. The foot...

The foot belonged to a blond boy hanging half on, half off the desk they had landed on, his face resting on the edge of an overturned blue swivel chair.

"If this is another juvenile prank..." came the boy's muffled voice. He was talking in the Speech.

"I'm sorry... _what?_" asked Nita, staring.

The boy performed a complicated sort of twist that left him sitting on the desk next to Nita.

"I said..." the boy began, pushing his glasses back up the bridge of his nose and focusing his gaze on Nita. "...wait. Aren't you the wizard with the broken manual?"

"Yeeeahhhh..." Nita replied, rather hesitantly. "Um... are you...?"

She trailed off.

"I'm Raphael, if that's what you were asking."

Nita stared. Her first impression was that He looked rather younger than He'd appeared in the picture. A lot younger, in fact. About three or four years younger than _her_, even.

Her second impression was that He had an extremely dry tone of voice for what looked like a eleven-year-old.

"Oh... okay... that's...um..."

"Ghhh...what's going on?" Kit asked, sitting up as well.

"Oh... um... uh... Kit, this is the Power Raphael, and this is..."

"I know," interrupted Raphael.

"Oh... okay. Just... just making sure..."

"Yeah, okay."

"Um... so..." Kit began. "What did we..."

At this point, the door to the room they were in opened, and a muddy-brown-haired head was nudged into the room.

Sleepy eyes blinked from behind thick glasses.

"Oh..." said George-the-kid-from-science-class, in the rather detached manner that was customary for him. "Hello. Did you need something?"

* * *

"Oh, _damn_."

"...is something wrong?"

"Wrong? Oh, nothing's _wrong_. Nothing's wrong, except for perhaps the fact that our designated charge has wound up about five miles from her starting point in a spell that is supposed to leave the caster essentially stationary, and that she's brought back the obsessed _mop-top_ with her..."

_Mops? I like mops. They're fun to chase when people are using them,_ Ponch quipped, missing the point entirely.

* * *

A/N: and things get Increasingly Weirder. Don't worry, this all makes sense in the end... until you get to the _very_ end... and if you ignore the crucial plot point...

Oh, I realize I'm making a lot of the characters seem a bit stupid. I.e., Kit being super-clueless, Ponch being even more super-clueless, Dairine being super-stuck-up, the Champion being super-AD(H)D... it's all for the sake of humor, really. Sorry if I start making one of your favorite characters seem really brainless or something... no offense is meant. Honest. I really _do_ like these characters, no matter how much evidence there is to the contrary.

And, yes, I realize Nita is not exactly following St. Behemiel's advice all that well .:)

Comments? Questions? Flames, even? Review, please!

And keep in mind:

Good may be all that and a bag of holy chips, but Evil laughs better.


	7. Chapter 6: A Note of Warning

A/N: Wheee! We're almost done, unless my muse and/or the characters decide(s) to be evil and pull another stunt on me....

Anywho... There's a character sketch of Raphie (actually, two—the first one was too hard to see, so I changed the bg and reposted for the second) up on my devart account, if anyone's curious.

Disclaimer: I don't own this stuff. This was NOT my idea, it was my muse's. And the characters and stuffsesness belong to Diane Duane. And, no, I don't have attention deficit disor... OOH! PRETTY CEILING PATTERNS!!!

* * *

**_On the Care and Keeping of Shoulder Angels_**__

OR:

**_A Wizard Under Annoyingly Close Watch Due to the Boredom of A Certain Power and the Kind but Unappreciated Concern of Its Sibling_**_ ^and the Belated and Bizarrely Unexplained Presence of Another_

**Chapter Six: A Note of Warning**

_"It is of greatest consequence that one must heed the following:_

_"_Never, _under any circumstances whatsoever, follow the advice of your shoulder angels unquestioningly._

_"Particularly if they are in perfect agreement with one another."_

—St. Behemiel's _Guide to Popular Supernatural Household Pets Vol. 4: Shoulder Angels_

* * *

George Peterson was one of those people who took life as it came. His daily schedule consisted of the following: wake up, brush teeth, go to school, do homework, go to sleep, repeat. And repeat, and repeat, and repeat.

He wasn't worried about politics, or wars, or college (which, in his mind, were all pretty much the same thing). If you were to ask him about the president, he'd say something along the lines of I don't know, but whoever he is, he must be doing a nice job, since we aren't bombing the Middle East, or accusing Korea, or squabbling with China, right? Ask him about wars—even if he had lived in the middle of WWII—and you would have gotten something like War? What war? And college would merit a response similar to Gee, I'm not sure, but my sister might know, why don't you ask her?

(His sister was currently in college. She'd applied to about twenty, and gotten acceptance letters from all. She'd had a 1600 on the SAT 's, had graduated valedictorian, and had participated in more extra-curricular activities than one could shake a stick at. Although it could be argued that she _did_ shake a stick at one of them, considering softball was among them.)

Needless to say, he didn't understand when people would gush at him for his high grades in AP Calculus (which he had the highest grade in the class, and possibly the school, for), despite the fact he was a freshman, or his essays that he occasionally submitted to college-level contests and won (unless his sister was also entering), or his talent in the violin, which he'd insist was only a skill (never mind that he'd had multiple offers from the New York Youth Symphony to the point that there were people ringing his doorbell to beg at his knees). All he really did was listen (usually to his sister), and follow directions perfectly, and get gushed at. How was that talent?

(No one told him people often couldn't follow directions perfectly—either due to difficulty understanding, or difficulty remembering, or just plain difficulty following directions—and would therefore make perfectly human errors.)

But people were often thrown off by the way he acted.

How could such a.... an _idiot_ be such a prodigy?

Few, however, ever realized that he wasn't really an idiot—he'd just state things in such a way that would make people think _they_ had come up with the notions themselves. George never gave a straight statement where a question could be substituted. It was part of his matter-of-fact way of viewing life as a whole.

So, when George walked in on three people—one whom he recognized from science class, one whom he thought looked vaguely familiar but wasn't sure about, and a third whom he'd never before seen in his life—sitting on his desk, he, naturally, reacted in the first way that occurred to him.

"Oh... hello. Did you need something?"

Nita, Kit, and Raphael stared at him blankly for a few moments.

"Uh...." began Nita and Kit at the same time. They glanced at each other.

"No, no, we'll be fine, thanks," Nita finished.

"Ah. Okay, just checking."

And with that, he exited. Too much blinking and staring from the peanut gallery.

"Uh... maybe we should get out of here..." suggested Kit after a moment.

"That would be prudent," agreed Raphael, as dryly as ever.

With that, the three of them went the way of the dodo, as far as George's room was concerned. George, however, popped back in, remembering that he'd went to his room for a _reason_, and again exited, carrying a large, bomb-shaped package.

* * *

A few minutes later, the two wizards and inexplicably present Power were greeted on George's driveway by two cranberries and a Christmas roast (otherwise referred to as The Lone One, the One's Champion, and Poncho).

"Hey, how'd you get here so f-" began Nita, before realizing Ponch was present. "...oh. Never mind."

"So." The Lone Power looked from Nita to Kit, plainly trying its hardest to ignore its colleague.

"Uh..." began Nita.

"Exactly _what_ happened back there?" demanded the Lone Power.

"I'd like to ask the same of _you_ right now," Raphael replied, despite the fact that the query had been directed at Nita."

"You'd like to ask it of _me?_ It's not as though I have any motivation whatsoever to sabotage..."

"um..." the One's Champion began in a small voice.

Raphael either didn't hear or chose to ignore her. "Past experience dictates that..."

"_Past experience_?" interrupted the Lone One. "You could take your _past experience_ and shove it up your underdeveloped little..."

"As I was _saying_," Raphael bore on,"_past experience dictates that you'd most likely..."_

"Who's he talking to?" whispered Kit to Nita, looking at Raphael oddly.

"...um..." began Nita."

"You didn't let her _partner_ know?" Raphael belligerent-ed, having heard Kit's question. "You assigned yourselves to a partnered wizard and you didn't even let her _partner_ know?"

"Your _point_ being?"

"Uh..." the Champion tried again.

"My _point_ is that it's only _prudent_ to...!"

"PRUDENT MY LITTLE FEATHERED ASS!!"

_"HELOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!????????????????" screeched the Defender. Everyone sans Kit and Defender flinched._

"...there," she sighed. "Much better. Now, let's all behave like civilized entities and..."

"I don't see _you_ acting all that civilized when _you_ argue," muttered the Lone One. And was met with a facefull of Barely Contained Righteous Wrath (tm).

"What. Was. That?" its twin whispered, her voice deadly and soft.

"I _said_, alright, let's do that, then," the Lone One replied indignantly. "What did you think I said?"

The Defender regarded him suspiciously, but let it slide.

"As I was _saying,_ let's all behave like civilized entities and settle this in a mature fashion."

"And...?"

"And... and you're supposed to help me here!"

"Well, it _was_ YOUR idea, you know."

"But that doesn't mean I have to do it all by myself!"

"You should at least _start,_ you know."

"But... but... but that's unfair!"

"No it's not!"

"Yes it is!"

"No it's not!"

"Yes it is!"

...

Raphael, meanwhile, sighed, kneading His temples.

"It's a _wonder_ We get anything done at home, what with _this_ manner of idiocy..."

"...???" Kit noted intelligently. Raphael glanced at him.

"Oh. Right." An irritated flick of the wrist. "There. It's done."

"What's d—Ahh! Nita! There's a pair of little... little _people_ pulling each other's hair in midair! And they look like... they look like the Lone One and the One's Cha... um... never mind..."

Kit withered under Nita's dark look (which plainly spelled out "PLEASE STOP STATING THE OBVIOUS, STUPID," in what would have been bright pink neon letters had they not been dark).

"I've had enough of this," announced Raphael. "I'm leaving."

Silence. If you set aside the continuous clatter of the catfight.

_Weren't you leaving?_ Ponch asked, sounding confused.

"It isn't working. I don't understand... this has never happened before."

_Oh, okay._

"Um... any ideas why?" asked Nita.

"No. And it doesn't make any sense I'm here at all, either. Exactly _what_ kind of spell were you trying, anyway?"

"It was just a simple search spell..."

"A simple search spell shouldn't do something like this unless it was either contaminated or interfered with."

"I don't remember any... wait." Nita thought for a moment. "We ran into a... a tear of some sort, and it seemed to have a field surrounding it..."

Raphael's blue eyes narrowed.

"What kind of tear?"

"I don't know, it was dark, and there was something in it... and it was in Ireland."

"...Ireland?"

"Or, at least I think it was. Do you know where Ronan Nolan was as of about fifteen minutes ago?"

Raphael paused a moment.

"Well. My connection with the main nexus still seems to be working, at least... he was taking a walk, near his home."

"Okay, then it was Ireland. We saw him yell at it."

"Did you get a good sense of what the tear felt like?"

"Not really. We were only in contact for a fraction of a second."

Raphael frowned.

"That isn't enough information to draw any conclusions from... we'll have to do a tracer on it."

"Tracer?"

"Yes, it...GGH!" Raphael was punted forward as a small, feathered mass hurtled against the back of his head.

"Um... are you alright?" asked Nita.

Raphael twitched slightly.

"kkkkhfmmmffmffmkk..." He muttered into the ground.

"...pardon?"

...

"That. Is. _Absolutely_. It!" Raphael grated, rising like the GREAT SPECTRE OF DOOM to deal with His cohorts (one of whom could itself be cons... oh, forget it...).

* * *

A few minutes later, when everyone was calm and in control enough to perform a spell, we find our heroes (likely, unlikely, and ludicrously impossible) bending in the half-light of twilight over a nearly complete spell-circle.

"All right, _this_ time, the three of Us can guide this spell from the sides, like _you_ were supposed to do, given your present forms."

The Lone Power glared at Raphael.

"Now, _see_ here..."

"Save it," Raphael snapped irritably. The Lone Power opened its mouth to argue, then thought better of it and turned back to the spell.

"Uh... are you guys ready?" Nita asked, quite unused to having _three_ Powers helping her directly.

...well, okay, two of them were in a state about equivalent in its relationship to their normal form as an AA battery was to a nuclear power plant, and the other was stuck here by accident, but _still_.

"Roger!" the Defender chirped, earning a funny look from both siblings.

"You are entirely too enthusiastic sometimes," the Lone One commented sardonically.

Raphael glared, and was ignored.

But Nita and Kit, at any rate, had already begun to chant the spell. A three-sided buffer formed around them, building up subtly as the silence did, until the pressure seemed almost unbearable.

And they were launched off into infinity.

Like a clown off a springboard into a pool of whipped cream.

* * *

Nita felt movement. Somehow, she felt herself going through George's room, and she felt herself going through the matter and being, and essence that made up the matter in his room. She felt herself hurtling, backwards, and in slow motion, through an illogical transit, felt herself coming out in Ireland, felt herself plastered against a thin layer of cellophane-shield that was both there and not there.

Felt herself being guided, gently, by a three-sided buoy, bizarrely similar to the bumpers in a beginner's bowling alley.

And saw people walking around in darkness, some in groups, some alone.

And saw a book. A vaguely familiar book. In her claudication.

But that couldn't be right, her claudication was with _her,_ not in Ireland. And her claudication was on _her_.

_Go back! We've got to go back!_ She cried in a panic, feeling metaphysical self stretching impossibly. She was too small, to big, turning in impossibly upon herself  like timelessness, or like a mortal ouroboros.

And then everything snapped back, into place.

Or, at least their bodies snapped back into place before colliding painfully with the pavement.

"Owwww...." Kit announced eloquently.

_You're back! You'rebackyou'rebackyou'rebackyou'reback!_

"Oh, perfect," Nita groaned. "It's perfect. This is _so_ ridiculous. The first discontinuity to show up... the _very first_..."

"Neets, _what_ are you babbling about?" Kit demanded, pushing himself off the ground.

"Kit... it's so ridiculous... you won't believe it..."

Nita reached into her claudication and fished around in it, still talking.

"I found this book randomly lying around on my bed, only about half an hour before the first problem showed up..."

"Who're you calling problem?" the Lone One challenged, balling up its little fists.

"...here it is! Look..."

Nita pulled a large book, which looked rather like a volume of an encyclopedia, out of her claudication and set it on the floor.

"The spell lead right into th—" she began.

The book fell open to a page, labeled "A Note of Warning" in large, bold script at the top.

In the box where there would usually have followed a description, there was a large hole. Nita stared at it.

Kit leaned forward.

"Hey, what's tha—"

The hole suddenly sprang from the page, like a picture from a pop-up book. Nita thrust herself backwards, having had enough weird experiences with unexplained holes lately....

* * *

George packed his violin back into its rectangular case, having practiced for a good half hour before his weekly lesson. After a careful inspection to make sure all of the catches were secure, he rose to walk next door, to his teacher's house three houses down.

He was, however, distracted the moment he opened the door.

For the second time that afternoon, George was confronted with a strange sight involving a two classmates and a strange blond boy on his family's property, although there was now a dog with them. For the second time, George considered for a moment before deciding to leave well enough alone.

However, in order to get to his teacher's house, George had to go past the small group on his driveway.

No problem.

And then a hole seemed to pop out of nowhere between one breath and the next, and gravity seemed to decide to say Bugger off to Newton, and George and two others were tipped into the hole like so many sugar cubes into a teacup.

_Oh dear,_ George found himself thinking, _I hope my violin survives this._

* * *

Nita and her cohorts (consisting of one dog and two miniature Powers, according to the most recent census) stared blankly at the hole in the air in front of them.

"...that's _not_ good," she said finally. (As the illustrious Douglass Adams has said, humans tend to make stupidly obvious statements when their brains are trying to deny something.)

"No, it's not," agreed the Defender. (Although I'm not at all sure what Adams has to say on the subject of shoulder angels making pointless statements...)

There was a pause, in which a few monkeys banged wrenches at bars and made talked about evil.

...and in which the Lone Power and One's Champion looked at each other.

"You know, we'd better go after them, huh?" the Lone One observed, finally.

"Yeah. That'd be good."

"Right."

"Okay."

They both looked expectantly at Nita.

"Well?" the Lone One insisted. "What are you waiting for?"

"...should I just... jump?"

"That's how it usually works," the Champion replied. "On..."

_Can I come, too?_ Ponch interrupted.

"...okay, that works," the Champion agreed. "...anyway, on three?"

"Right."

"One..."

"Two..."

"Three..."

"Hup!"

And the four of them jumped into the unknown darkness...

* * *

A/N: well! That went well! Nita, the shoulder angels, and Ponch are on their way to meet the enemy, whilst Kit, Raphael, and George are presumably already there, and.... have I missed anyone?

Oh yes. Our mysterious presences are presumably waiting.

So.... we are nearing the end of this little 'fic... only a chapter or two to go, folks...

Aside from that...

I really should stop putting off to the last minute, really I should. You don't know how many times I've tried to call the main characters Nit or Kita (I believe the former is rather worse, though). I've had _all_ this free time this week...

Although I don't work well unless under pressure. Bleaugh.

Questions? Comments? Critiques? Clickie, clickie, please.... _pleeeeeease????_

And remember:

All that glitters may not be gold, but it _could_ be plastic, or glass, or steel, or silver, or aluminum, or....


	8. Chapter 7: Instinctual Abilities

A/N: Hello, hello! I'm back!

Um… not much to say in this A/N… except that this chappie begins a bit oddly…

Disclaimer: my money goes to my guinea pig, my… oh wait, this is a disclaimer, not a will. Um… I no own, you no sue, simple as that.

…so why is my muse bothering me about who owns _him_?

* * *

**_On the Care and Keeping of Shoulder Angels_**

OR:

**_A Wizard Under Annoyingly Close Watch Due to the Boredom of A Certain Power and the Kind but Unappreciated Concern of Its Sibling_**_ **and the Belated and Bizarrely Unexplained Presence of Another**_

**Chapter Seven: Instinctual Abilities**

_"Shoulder angels are very sensitive creatures. They are capable of knowing, through instinct, when there is something wrong with a situation; usually, an adult angel is able to pinpoint exactly what within a few minutes. However, if this is not so, and your angel informs you of an 'odd, nagging feeling,' they are likely either being interfered with or in a less than healthy state. Either of these is, though unlikely, quite serious; hence, if this manner of situation ever occurs, be certain to investigate immediately."_

—St. Behemiel's _Guide to Popular Supernatural Household Pets Vol. 4: Shoulder Angels_

* * *

 "...should I just... jump?"

"That's how it usually works," the Champion replied. "On..."

_Can I come, too?_ Ponch interrupted.

"...okay, that works," the Champion agreed. "...anyway, on three?"

"Right."

"One..."

"Two..."

"Three..."

"Hup!"

And the four of them jumped into the unknown darkness...

* * *

"...should I just... jump?"

"That's how it usually works," the Champion replied. "On..."

_Can I come, too?_ Ponch interrupted.

"...okay, that works," the Champion agreed. "...anyway, on three?"

"Right."

"One..."

"Two..."

"Three..."

"Hup!"

And the four of them jumped into the unknown darkness...

* * *

"...should I just... jump?"

"That's how it usually works," the Champion replied. "On..."

_Can I come, too?_ Ponch interrupted.

"...okay, that works," the Champion agreed. "...anyway, on three?"

"Right."

"One..."

"Two..."

"Three..."

"Hup!"

And the four of them jumped into the unknown darkness...

* * *

"...should I just... jump?"

"That's..."

"You know, this is getting a bit ridiculous," the Lone One interrupted.

"...good point."

"...what?" Nita asked, looking from one fluffy feathered construct to the other.

"So... I propose we derail the loop."

"Right. I hate to repeat myself incessantly, but on three?"

"One..."

"Two..."

"Thr—"

And Nita suddenly found herself in mundane little waiting room, as if someone had pulled a handkerchief off of it. Except, in this case, it was a driveway, not a handkerchief. Which was significantly trickier.

Nita, Ponch, and the angels took in their surroundings like a cluster of sponge animals. They were in one of those funny little waiting rooms that could have belonged to a private doctor or dentist's clinic; there were once tasteful (but now leaning more towards pitiful) wooden chairs with cushions like compressed cardboard, and a carpet with various unidentifiable stains (most of them probably resulting from incidents involving small children in some way or another), and various paintings of varying degrees of skill and taste hung neatly along the walls. The entire affair smelled strongly of a cross between deodorant and week-old popcorn.

And sitting in two of the fossilized chairs were...

"Kit!"

"Neets!"

...

"... and ..._George_?"

"Oh, hello, Nita," greeted George pleasantly. "How did you get here?"

And there were many stares directed at the violinist.

"Yes?" asked George.

"...Nothing. Um, anyway..." Nita began, "exactly... where are we?"

"It looks like a doctor's waiting room," observed the One's Champion.

"No, really?" asked the Lone One sarcastically. Its sibling didn't catch it.

"Yeah, don't you see?"

"...I shall refrain from pointing out to you that that was intended to be sarcasm."

"Oh, okay."

 "But anyway, I don't think that's it," the Lone One commented, after spending a moment glowering with impressive disdain at its sibling. It would have been more impressive coming from something that wasn't so fluffy.

"Uh... what?"

"I get the funny feeling I've done this before..."

"Like déjà vu?" quipped Kit.

"...no, not exactly." It floated there for a moment, considering. "Ah, never mind."

Nita sat down on one of the chairs next to Kit.

"So, does anyone have anything to do while we wait?"

Without answering, the Lone Power reached into its pocket and pulled out a pair of dice. (They were normal-sized dice; later, when Nita tried to figure out how they'd fit in its pocket, she'd gotten a huge headache and decided to give it up.)

"What's that?"

"My random plot generator."

It tossed them into the air.

The dice fell....

One read, "Timmy." The other: "Falls down a well."

The Lone Power frowned, and tried again.

"Timmy" "Falls down a well"

...and again.

"Timmy" "Falls down a well"

"Timmy" "Falls down a well"

"Timmy" "Falls down a well"

"Timmy" "Falls down a well"

"Timmy" "Falls down a well"

Finally, it sighed and scooped up the dice again.

"Over seven billion possibilities for each die, and they _always_ land on _those_ two. Never mind that Timmy is dead by now and there aren't many wells any more for him to fall down, anyway."

They considered this for a moment.

"Aren't they six-sided dice?" asked George

"Yeah."

"How do they have so many options?"

"Higher dimentional manipulation. But _she_ broke it..."

It flung the dice on the floor.

"Timmy" "Falls down a well," they said, in cheerful bold lettering.

* * *

"You know," commented Nita, "it occurs to me that we have no idea what we're waiting for."

"True," agreed the Lone Power.

"Let's go look around a bit."

_Yeahyeah__!_ barked Ponch.

_"Shhhh!"_

* * *

Ponch had found a door, the six of them had gone through (George still carrying his violin) and come out in a typical plaster-walls-and-blue-carpet hallway with wooden doors lining the walls.

That had been about two hours ago.

"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAGH!" screamed the Lone Power. "If I see ONE MORE STUPID WOODEN DOOR..."

"Calm down, dear," the One's Champion murmured. "It's alright. Breathe in... breathe out... breathe in... breathe out...."

"Maybe we should check the doors?" suggested Kit

"No," the Lone One asserted. "That's a VERY STUPID thing to do in this sort of situation."

"Why?"

"Why? _Why?_ Because there's always something either disappointing or exciting on the other side. I should know; I engineered these things."

"You engineered the doors?"

"_No!_ I did _not_ engineer the doors!"

"Then what... oh, never mind..."

"...hey, I just noticed... where's Raphael?" asked Nita.

"Raphael? I dunno..." replied Kit. "I mean, he was there when we first started falling, but he was gone after that..."

"I hope he's alright..."

"What do you _mean_ you hope he's alright?" the Lone One demanded indignantly. "He's one of the Powers that _Be_, how could he _not_ be alright?"

"Raphie can take care of himself; I'm sure he's fine," added the Defender.

* * *

Meanwhile...

Raphael glowered. A lot.

_Whatever happened to the 'sociable spirit?'_ inquired a little floating presence in front of Him.

"The sociable spirit isn't sociable when you stick Him in a little blank hole of a dimension and tell Him you're doing an experiment," Raphael replied, His voice even drier than before. If that was possible.

_Ouch._

"Good."

_So... do you like baseball?_

Glower. Glower. Glower.

_...okay, I'll take that as a no._

* * *

"Alright, that's it," Nita said after another half hour of walking down changeless hallway. She reached for a doorknob. "I don't care what the consequences are. This is driving me nuts. I'm checking a door."

Nita turned the doorknob...

"No, wait!"

...it opened to a waiting room, suspiciously similar to the one they'd been in before.

"...that was anticlimactic."

"Is it just me or does this room look familiar?" commented Nita

"Yeah! It looks just like the one we just left," the Defender agreed.

"The one we 'just' left?" the Lone Power muttered.

"Okay, the one we left about three hours ago."

"You know, I want to try something," Nita decided out loud."

"Yeah? What?"

"Could you guys wait here while I go check something?"

"We..." began the Lone Power. But Nita was already gone. "...or not."

Nita's head poked back in through the door.

"Wow, that was fast," Kit observed.

"No, I..." began Nita. She paused before shutting the door. And opened it again, four seconds later. And shut. And opened. And shut. And opened.

"Nita, what are you doing?"

"I'm opening all of the doors in the hallway, and they all open here!"

"...they do?"

"Yes!"

"That doesn't make any sense."

"Maybe they have a worldgate on all of them leading to this room?"

"No, that's unlikely," the Defender refuted. "You can't have that many worldgates working in the same area. They'd interfere with one another's weaves."

"Okay, then, um..."

"Let me check."

The Lone Power fluttered out into the hallway with Nita, looking at different doors.

"Can the rest of you come out here?"

"..okay..."

"Let's see... hmmm..."

A pause. "Could I borrow someone's pen?"

"Here." Nita offered him her space pen.

"Thanks."

And, as the others watched on with slightly bemused interest, it began doodling on one of the doors. Animals, trees, flowers, people, cars, mathematical equations, tic-tac-toe, unholy sigils...

_BOOM!_

...a combustion spell diagram.

"Ghh... I _always_ do that..."

"And you wonder why Raphael never lends you his pens."

"...shut up."

The jagged burn mark that had once been a door, meanwhile, had healed up into a spot of ordinary, blank wall. The Lone One looked around at the other doors.

"...okay, there goes that theory."

"What were you trying to do?" asked George.

"I thought it may have been a spatial loop, like how we were stuck in a temporal loop before."

"...oh, okay."

"...wait."

"Yes?"

"How is it that you're able to see us at all?"

"...I don't know. Am I not supposed to?"

"No, you're not."

"Oh, okay. I suppose it must be an unexplained phenomenon, then."

Silence.

"My aunt likes unexplained phenomena. She said she was abducted by aliens once."

More silence.

"Do... are any aliens even _interested_ in abducting people from around here?" asked Kit finally.

"No. This planet is too out of the way," the Champion explained.

"Ah. Okay."

Yet more silence.

"...maybe someone just created a paradox to fuel the doors?" suggested the Champion.

"What?" Nita asked, before realizing the subject had just been changed.

"Wait, say that again," the Lone One directed.

"What... what?"

"Not you, her!"

"...to fuel the doors?"

"before that."

"Maybe someone?"

_"Stop doing that!"_

"Doing what?"

"Avoiding what I wanted you to say!"

"Well, if you knew what it was you wanted me to say, why did you ask me to say it?"

"It's for the sake of dramatic convention, you spud!"

"...have you been hanging around Dairine Callahan?"

"... that's beside the point! The rhetorical question is right up there with the three-shot rule, and the needless gloating, and..."

"And evil always loosing?" suggested George. It glared at him.

"...and evil always loosing. But anyway... paradox, right?"

"Yes. Paradox."

"Paradox?"

"Paradox."

"I remember I followed a paradox before I wound up at Nita's house."

"And this is relevant _how_?" Nita asked.

"I think that might make the theory worth looking into."

"It might make the.... oh _gggghhhh..._"

"What? Dramatic convention!"

"...well, it doesn't matter if it was a paradox. There has to be some way out of here."

"Okay."

"Okay."

"O—wait. That's the logical conclusion."

"Yes. So?"

"Paradoxes are illogical."

"So?"

"So? _So_? So, if I'm right, there _won't_ be a way out, because it's only logical that there will be."

"That makes no sense whatsoever."

"Exactly! See, you're catching on!"

"...I don't see _how_."

"Whoever controls this space is pretty clever. They found a way to control this space so that they use the least possible amount of energy to trap us..."

"And _why_ are you jumping to the conclusion that someone wants to trap us?"

"Dramatic convention!"

"But wouldn't they want to make sure there was no way out?" asked George.

"Right."

"So it would be only logical that there's no way out, right?"

"Right."

"But paradoxes are _illogical_, right?"

"Rig..."

And the hallway disappeared.

* * *

_Darn! Foiled again!_

Raphael looked at the presence oddly.

"Pardon?"

_I said..._

_"Raphael?"_

* * *

A/N: Okay. ONE MORE TO GO....

(Knowing my luck, it'll fall on another bad day.)

Ugh... this chapter was a bit shorter than the others. I was intending to just stick everything in this, and make it the last chapter, but then I realized it would have been too long.....

That, and I'm already a day late.

I'm being a bit obsessive about that, aren't I?

Feel free to review, even though there's only one chapter left!

And remember:

Never lend the devil your pen. ^_^


	9. Chapter 8: Closing Explainations

A/N: AAAAAHHHHHHH! An entire three month+ hiatus.... I've been having a severe case of writer's block lately T_T. (My muses like to take turns. When I'm in full swing with art, I can't do a thing having to do with writing; whereas, if I can write, I can't draw.)

...but enough of that. Last chapter! Yay!

Disclaimer: I can't think of anything creative to say this time. I don't own anything, except maybe this (non)plot, George, and this portrayal of Raphael (Raphael: "Heh. You wish."). Everything else belongs to Diane Duane, who probably would have been ashamed of this ficcy if she'd written it, anyway.

* * *

**_On the Care and Keeping of Shoulder Angels_**

OR:

**_A Wizard Under Annoyingly Close Watch Due to the Boredom of a Certain Power and the Kind but Unappreciated Concern of Its Sibling_**_ **and the Belated and Bizarrely Eventually Unexplained Presence of Another**_

**Chapter Eight: Closing Explanation**

_"Housing shoulder angels is quite an involved and pleasant experience to many who are lucky enough to come by it. However, it is essential to keep in mind that what we are doing is no more or less than just that—housing them. One must remember that, ultimately, shoulder angels exist for the purpose of guiding individuals through a given circumstance, and will often leave their masters when all is resolved. Therefore, it is most sensible to enjoy the company of your angels for as long as they remain."_

—St. Behemiel's _Guide to Popular Supernatural Household Pets Vol. 4: Shoulder Angels_

_"However, one is advised against attempting to take pictures, as shoulder angels are prone to causing the spontaneous combustion of any such appropriate equipment within their vicinity."_

—St. Behemiel's _Guide to Popular Supernatural Household Pets Vol. 4: Shoulder Angels (1840 edition)_

* * *

Somewhere, or somewhen, beyond the reaches of human comprehension, there exists a presence. It is something we cannot always concretely discern, but sense is constantly there; it is watching, it is knowing, it is waiting...

But never mind your third grade teacher. She's not important in this narrative.

Nita and company were standing in the middle of a void. Around them were wandering, sluggish figures, barely discernable through the haze of uncertainty that seemed to fall over everything, and before them were a young boy and a vaguely floating thing.

Then the floating thing mitosed into...

Alright, make that two floating things

_Nita!_ burbled the smaller one. _I missed you!_

Nita stared at the floating thing. It had a strangely familiar quality to it... like a left sock one had lost a long time ago and suddenly turned up, inexplicably, in the locker room of one's high school gym. Five years after it'd been lost.

"Um... hi..."

_It's me, don't you recognize me?_

And then it clicked. As in, made a small sound not unlike a pair of dice hitting each other. Nita frowned, and searched in her pocket... sure enough, a pair of dice were in them: "Timmy" "Falls down the well," they said.

Nita blinked.

_Nita? Helllooooo?_

Nita blinked again, and looked at it. Quite blankly.

_It's me,_ the will-o-the-wisp explained patiently, with the air of a theoretical chemist trying to explain nuclear fusion to a three-year-old. _I'm from your manual._

Nita blinked yet again.

_...is there something in your eye?_ the alpha-type asked.

"...um...no..."

* * *

As Nita was talking to her errant character-type, some of the others (namely, the Lone One, the Defender, Raphael, and the Other Presence—Kit and George were rather occupied with trying to observe Nita talking to a floating letter, and Ponch... well, Ponch was being Ponch...) were otherwise engaged in their own exchange.

_"Raphael?"_ the Defender gasped. "Is that you?"

"No, it's Winston Churchill," the Lone One sarcasm-ed.

"Really?"

"No! I was being sarcastic, you..."

 "But... um... anyway.... what are you doing here, Raphael?" the Defender asked, her attention span quickly shoving her twin into a corner. Metaphorically, of course.

"I'm being made the unwilling subject of an experiment of some sort, the elements thereof as of yet uncertain."

"Ah. Okay. That's nice."

Silence, except for Nita talking to her escaped letter-type ("Yes, I'm _sure_ I don't have anything in my eye! Stop clucking!").

"...um... and what are _you_ doing here?" the Defender asked the floating presence.

_I live here._

_...tell me. Have you ever been or considered becoming a preschool teacher?_

"I probably have been, at some point or another. Or will be. Or am being. ...Is being? Am is becoming?"

_...okay. Never mind._

 "Okay."

_Okay._

"....."

_....._

"...."

"hruff," observed Ponch. For some reason, this caused everyone to stop and stare at him for a moment.

"Hey," commented Kit, "I think that's the first time I've heard him bark for a long time without either saying or chasing something while he's at it."

With that, the thread of Nita's conversation frayed and disintegrated like sugar in a vat of acid. (The other conversation had already done so about three minutes ago).

...

......

....

...........

..............

....

.....

"....You know, I think this is the point at which we're supposed to confront the conniving, corrupt entity as to why it's been causing so many problems lately," the Lone One observed.

_Really?_

"Yes. I should know."

Silence.

"We're a bit overdue the stage at which _I'm_ usually offered an Eldest-Fairest-and-Fallen-greeting-and-defiance, you know."

More silence.

"As in, about five minutes ago."

More silence.

"Hello?"

Ditto.

"...."

"...what _are_ you, anyway?" Nita asked, finally.

"What do you mean, what am I?" demanded the Lone One indignantly. "I..."

"Not you. Him. .... Her.... it...."

"Well, I'd assume it's the paradox we were dealing with earlier, right?"

_I find the term_ paradox _to be quite racial and degrading,_ sniffed the entity in question. _I'm an_ anomaly, _thankyouverymuch._

This proclamation was greeted by multiple stares, bearing large boxes of unknown contents and requests to donate money to charities of the questionable-and-probably-feeding-guys-with-turbins-and-radioactive-whooha-on-the-other-end-or-so-says-the-government persuasion.

"...okay, you're an anomaly," Nita amended agreeably, once she'd chased her stares away. "Um... so... what _do_ you say to a parad—an anomaly?"

"I don't suppose the cease-what-you-are-doing-or-I-must-abolish-you line applies here, does it?" suggested the Defender.

"No, I don't think that exactly works, in this case," the Lone One disagreed. "Can you think of any precedents of wizards facing p—anomalies?"

"Have _you_ ever used them?"

"No."

"Then probably not. Ummm.... Raphael?"

"There aren't any."

"How about hi-would-you-like-to-buy-some-cookies?" suggested George.

"That's Girl Scouts," replied the Defender, without missing a beat. George blinked owlishly.

"Oh, okay."

The Lone Power regarded George carefully.

"Was he being sarcastic?"

"George? _Sarcastic?_ You've got to be kidding me," Nita replied. "The two concepts don't belong in the same sentence."

"Ah. I see."

"Maybe why-are-you-doing-that-we-really-don't-like-it-you-know-so-could-you-please-stop or something?" George tried again.

"No, that..." began the Lone One.

"Hey, why not?" interrupted the Defender. "Why _are_ you doing that, hmm?"

"Forget why. _What_, precisely, are you up to, and _then_ why?" the Lone One amended.

_I'm not going to tell you._

"Why not?"

_Because I don't want to._

"But it's dramatic convention," the Lone One insisted.

_But only stupid idiots spout their grand plan to the other side, before being thwarted and inevitably falling down the great pit of __Darwin__'s theory._

"Hey! I'll have you know I established that practice!"

The anomaly's silence spoke volumes. As in, WELL, THAT JUST PROVES MY POINT, NOW DOESN'T IT!!??

"Why you LITTLE....!!!"

"Brother, dear....."

"shmrmrrrmhrmrrrrmrmrrr...." muttered the Lone One through gritted teeth.

_What did he say?_

"I think he was just muttering nonsense syllables."

_Oh, alright._

"But can't you tell us what you're doing?"

_No._

"Not even why?"

_Nuh-uh._

"Pleeeeeeease?"

_...no._

"Perhaps, if you informed us of the reasons for your dissent, we could collaborate and resolve the situation diplomatically, efficiently, and nonviolently," suggested George. And was stared at.

"How come you never talked like that before?" asked Nita.

"Like what?"

"...never mind."

_I'm not supposed to have a reason. I exist in the absence of reason,_ the anomaly explained.

"Then why don't you tell us anything?" asked George

_Because it's illogic—oh, drat._

"See?" The Lone One smirked.

_You're acting like You were the one who'd made the point._

"So?"

_Well... you weren't. It's rhetorically unsound to tell me "see" when you didn't make the point in the first place._

"That's being logical, too."

_...I hate you._

"I know. Isn't it lovely?"

_Hrrrrmph._

_And stop trying to make me sound logical. I don't like it. It puts my existence in jeopardy._

"That would be a problem, huh?" George agreed.

_Yes. You have absolutely no idea._

"I mean, it must be really frustrating, having to be illogical all of the time so you don't accidentally blow up..."

_...negate..._

"....yes, _negate_ yourself or something."

_Oh, yes. Negate myself. Very annoying._

"I mean, _I_ wouldn't want to live my entire life having to worry about something like that."

_No, you wouldn't. It's quite difficult, you know. I mean, I have enough to worry about on my own, you know?_

"Yes?"

_It's not fair._ We _always get the short straw, anomalies._

"Do you?"

_I mean, quite aside from all of the having to worry about negation..._

It occurred to Nita that it was starting to pick up George's speech patterns.

_...I have to watch out for myself, too, you know?_

"Really?"

_I mean, we're not even recognized as a sentient species!_

"You aren't?"

The Lone Power opened its mouth to interrupt, probably with something along the lines of _well, maybe you should consider that's because you_ aren't _a sentient species,_ but was clamped down by its sibling first. The smaller one, that is.

_And... and... and no one's tried to_ do _anything about it! Ever!_

"Is that what you're trying to do then?"

_Well, I..._

It paused, suddenly realizing what it'd just said.

_Oh... oh *&#$%._

 "You mean that's all you wanted?" He asked. A blond eyebrow twitched. "Then _why_, in One's name, did you feel the need to spirit Me off to this... this..."

"Raphael, don't," interrupted the Lone One. It jabbed a thumb at the Defender. "Remember that one time _she_..."

"I told you, that was an accident! An _accident!!!_"

_"Ridiculous pocket dimension,_ as I was _about_ to say."

"...Oh, okay."

_I got you here because I thought it would help._

"Exactly _how_ would My being here help you?"

"Yeah, how? You should know that there's billions of this little idiot giving us grief every happy hour of the day...

"And what was with the shoulder angels thing, anyway?"

Raphael glared at the Lone Shoulder Angel.

_You're the Power with the administration over science, aren't you? So, since science is logic, if there wasn't any science, then there wouldn't be logic, so there wouldn't be any threat to_ us. _And I was trying to attract a Power that was bored. It seemed to me that He'd have a pretty boring job, being the Power of science._

"_That _is the stupidest thing I've ever heard," Raphael enunciated.

 "But isn't a science a study? Like all of the _–ologies_? Doesn't _–ology_ mean 'the study of'?" George asked.

"It doesn't matter. He'll be around in some form or another no matter _what_ you do to one copy of Him. Like cockroaches," the Lone One stated. And was given an accusing glance from its twin, which it ignored completely. "Cockroaches who like to pop up at the most inconvenient times and tell you _exactly what you're doing wrong._"

"Incorrectly."

"See!? See what I mean!?"

"And don't double-punctuate. It's grammatically incorrect."

"What are You talking about!?"

"You're still doing it."

"Gaaaaaah!"

The Defender cleared her throat.

"...anyway... now that _that's_ been resolved..."

_Hey! What about me!?_

"Well... hm..."

"If you want to talk about species rights, you have to go to the administration for this kind of thing."

_And where would I find him, her, or it?_

Two small fingers pointed at Raphael.

"...get us out of here first, and _then_ I'll talk," Raphael told it.

_That works._

* * *

The group found themselves standing on George's driveway again.

With a large number of people grouped around them.

A wave of talk washed over them like ocean spray. Diluted sewage and everything. A few people wandered off.

Amidst the hubbub, Nita knelt to pick up a battered oblong. She blinked at it, then dusted off the glossy black cover, inspecting it closely.

_Guide to Popular Supernatural Household Pets Vol. 4: Shoulder Angels,_ it said. _St. Behemiel,_ it said, below that.

"You know what?" the Lone One remarked after a moment. "? I'm going to go and have a _long_ talk with Behemiel as soon as We..."

It paused.

It looked at Itself.

It looked at the Defender.

"Hey.... We're back to normal-size."

"No, _really_," Raphael said, dryness-level somewhere along the same lines as that of deep space. (The amount of moisture in Raphael's voice is a good litmus-test for how irritated He was—namely, if there's any detectable amount at all, He's more or less in a mood that, while it'd be rather stretching it to call it "good," could have passed for "mildly tolerant." However, if this were to ever occur, then it probably meant that something along the lines of the Lone One going down on bended knee and offering a heartfelt apology for all the times He'd accidentally blown up the paperwork while doodling in margins had happened. Or "never," in so many words. So by inference, Raphael was eternally cheesed off, although this was true by degrees; in the past six hours or so, His voice had been getting drier by the minute. At its current rate of change, it wouldn't be long before it was at the crisp-the-air-and-cause-nosebleeds-like-an-escaped-mad-clown-with-a-bag-of-bricks stage.)

"Now, that was uncalled for. I was just making an observation."

"This, coming from the Power who likes to make odd noises about His contemporaries commenting on less-than-obvious facts."

"Oh... do shut up."

"...is a rhetorical device used by those who have nothing more constructive and/or intelligent to say," Raphael addendum-ed.

"...damn you."

"...to which the same may apply."

The Lone One opened its mouth to say something again, but was interrupted by its twin, who'd had enough of watching the Olympic final in verbal ping-pong.

"I don't think You should do that to Behemiel," She remarked. "It wouldn't be polite. He probably had no idea this was going to happen."

"I... what?" the Lone One asked, skidding headlong into the rhetorical wall known as _non-sequitor_. 

"Behemiel? The book?"

"Oh.... oh! Right. Um."

"...anyway... I think that's all, right?"

"Yes," agreed Raphael. "I'll be going now. Come on."

He pushed through the crowd and walked behind a tree without coming out the other side (seemingly), the anomaly bobbing after.

"Um... I think I'll go to... I have to go to practice..."

George hefted his violin case and disappeared as well. (In a more figurative sense, of course.)

"How... very... um..." began the Lone One.

"Studious?" suggested the Defender.

"I was actually going for obsessive."

"Oh. Okay. But anyway..." She bent over and squeezed a big hug out of Nita, Kit, and Ponch. "Bye!"

"um... bye..."

She gave one last squeeze then let go.

There was a pause.

There was a longer pause.

"I am _not_ hugging anyone!" the Lone One announced at last. A bit too loudly.

What was left of the crowd of people who'd been dispelled from the anomaly's dimension stared at him.

"...uhhhhh...."

"Let's just go."

"Right."

* * *

Behemiel glares out at all those who would accuse Him. "_I did NOT plan that!!!!"_

~Fin~

* * *

A/N: Whew. Done. I'm sorry it took so long; the big, long conversation in the middle kept on insisting on prolonging itself; I'd gotten it to about four times its initial length before I finally decided to go back and edit out the more useless stuff. The characters just _refused_ to cooperate with what I wanted them to do... But anyway, that's mostly why there are a lot of sloppy transitions in this. Aside from my being bad at transitions anyway in the first place, that is. And the closing sucks. But I REALLY felt I needed to get this done, so... well, there you have it ^.^.

And, no, Behemiel was not part of a conspiracy. It was all a series of misunderstandings. Really. I'm not kidding.


End file.
